Natural
by DauntlessBoy
Summary: Beatrice is a natural at reading people. After her mother was murdered Tris never lost that power. Ten years later she is offered a job at the BAU. What will she do when she has to work with Four, the only other natural profiler? Will she ever find her mother’s killer? *Rated M for violence and possible future lemons*
1. Pilot

**Disclaimer:** _I do not own Divergent because that belongs to Veronica Roth. Nor do I take credit for The Naturals by Jennifer Lynn Barnes._

 **Enjoy :)**

Beatrice POV

 **9 years old** (Prologue)

The hallway in the auditorium is cold and dark. I sit in the chair as my mother gets ready. She has a gift in entertainment. She comes here to perform. My mother loves to sing.

She takes me with her sometimes. She's trained me to help people—to help them cope. Not many people like her for some reason though, they call her a scam.

She says she's psychic. She's taught me how to be psychic too. We play this game sometimes when we go out. We sit at the fountain at the mall and guess what makes people happy. She'd point out someone and I'd tell her what would make them happy. Those are the days she's the happiest. It brings her joy in helping others.

I hear the sound of breaking glass in the dressing room. She doesn't like to be interrupted when getting ready, but I just want to make sure she's okay.

"Mommy?" I beckon. No answer. I hop off the chair and walk over to the door. "Mommy!"

I turn the knob on the door. The lights are off in the room. It's really dark. I'm too short to reach the lightswitch so I go back to grab the chair from the hallway. I hear glass crunch under someone's feet on my way back.

I slide the chair into the room and kneel on the chair so I can reach the lightswitch. My hands find the switch. It's warm unlike the rest of the room.

The lights flicker on and I fall back onto the floor. I look to the lightswitch, there's blood on it. I look too my hand—blood, not mine. Shards of glass lay on the floor. The walls are red… so much red.

I feel someone pulling on me, but I can't peel my eyes away from the scene. "Mommy!" I scream, hoping she'll say it's okay and she's fine—that she loves me.

I don't know where she went. She must be okay if there is no body there.

But the blood—so much blood. It seems almost impossible that all that blood can come from one person.

Beatrice POV

 **19 years old**

Chapter 1 (Late September)

My eyes dart to the entrance of the café as the bell dings. Enters a man with messy black hair. He wears tight fitted jeans and a red, plaid shirt—too nice for this place. To top it off he wears brown shades. He holds onto a green string that is tied around his neck.

He sits down in the corner at a two person table. The way he puts his feet out in front of him and crosses them at the ankles, he's not waiting for anyone. Not going to lie… He's kind of cute.

I get out my notepad and pen as I walk over to him. "What can I get'cha?" I ask. They guy takes his shades off and and I see his dark slanted eyes.

"Eggs," he says. I can tell he's checking me out, which isn't uncommon here. I raise my eyebrows in annoyance. "Uh… sorry."

"How do you like em?" I ask, putting on a fake smile that usually gets me tips. The guy fiddles with a card in his hands, flicking it back and forth with his thumb.

"You tell me?" He says with a smile. I'm taken back by his response.

"You want me to guess your order?" I ask.

"Why not?" I scan over him quickly and go over the possible options. _Not scrambled. Scrambled is too ordinary, and this guy is anything but that. He's clean and neat so that rules out sunny side up, which is too messy for this guy. Hard boiled is too out there._

"Over easy?" I ask sure of my outcome. He smiles more. "Aren't you gonna tell me if I'm right?"

"Where's the fun in that?" He asks. I go to sit behind the counter while I wait for the man's order, but he grabs my wrist. Not in an aggressive way so I turn back to him.

He hands me the card he was fiddling with. "I'm Matthew," he says. "I'm with the Behavior Analysis Unit." I look down at the card.

 _Amar Hijazi:_ Name

 _Special agent:_ Title

 _Behaviour Analysis Unit:_ Occupation

This probably has to do with my mother's murder.

"So you're a profiler?" I ask. He doesn't seem like one, not that I've met many.

He laughs under his breath. "Uh… no, I'm a technical analyst." It make sense, he has a geeky charm.

The bell dings, signalling for me to bring him his order. Matthew places a fifty dollar bill, which is way too much and starts for the door. He opens the door and turns back to me. "We'll be expecting your call," he says without a trace of doubt. _We?_

~o0o~

When I get home I can't help but stare at the card Matthew gave me. My mother has been dead for years, why would they be interested in the case now. Maybe they found some leads? I can't help but wonder.

I fiddle with my phone thinking over the possible scenarios: _What if they found her body? What if they found her murderer?_ Or maybe it's something bad. I don't know what's worse than having no leads.

I let my curiosity get the better of me and I type in the number.

"This is Agent Hijazi." A man's voice says from the other side.

"Hi, this is Beatrice Prior…" I say because there's nothing else to say. I don't even know why I'm calling.

"Miss Prior," He says. "Please, call me Amar."

"Call me Tris," I say back.

"You're probably wondering why I got Matthew to contact you," He says. "This would be better to talk about in person. Do you have somewhere in mind where we can meet?"

"Do you have an office?" I ask. I'm testing to see if he is a legitimate or if this is some cruel joke. Wouldn't be the first time.

"Yes, I'll send you the address," Amar says. "I'm free before dinner."

"Okay."

"Oh, and Beatrice…" He says. "This is not about your mother."

Four POV

I'm on my way to Amar's office. He said he had a meeting, but it wasn't on his schedule. Amar isn't the kind of person to just add people in whenever so I thought I'd go check it out. God, I hate elevators. The doors start to close when I hear a girl say something.

"Hold the door please!" She says. I'm praying for the doors to close already. I should have just taken the stairs! The girl pushes the door back open and hits her elbow hard on the wall. I stare at her for a few second before pretending I didn't notice her.

She has long, blond hair, tied up in a bun which has strands falling out. The strands frame her small face, while her eyes are a grey-blue. I can't get anything out of her other than she's in a hurry.

"Would have thought this elevator was empty, considering I almost snapped my arm in half," she says. She doesn't press an elevator button as it closes, so I assume this is who Amar's meeting. What makes her so special?

I can't read her though. Her posture says welcoming and laid back, while her rushing here speaks otherwise. "Holding the door for someone rewards people who are late," I tell her. If she is late for a meeting with Amar… she must not know him.

"It's just basic human decency," She remarks quietly. She doesn't seem shy. Why is she being so rude to me? I mean, I know I'm rude to everyone… but that's just me. What if she knows me? My family. _Stop it, Tobias. You're being paranoid._

"Sorry, I didn't mean to start a conversation here." She's rude to me, I'll be rude back. I stare at the doors, wanting to pry them open.

"Oh, cause you're used to people just shutting up after you say rude things to them?" She says raising her eyebrows. Her eyes lock with mine and I freeze. I want to figure her out. She seems to have already figured me out.

"Do I know you from somewhere?" I ask finally, not wanting it to look like I was checking her out—which she probably gets a lot.

"Now who's starting a conversation?" She remarks. She crosses her arms under her chest—which pushes up her boobs… I look away, hoping she didn't notice me stare.

"What's your name?" I ask her as politely as possible—which still comes out a little harsh.

"What's yours?" She counters. She's really stubborn. In a cute way though, not an annoying way. _Wait, since when do I think of girls as_ cute? I can tell she's annoyed though so I answer her question.

"Four," I tell her. The elevator doors open and I see Amar in a dark blue suit. He never wears suits. _Who is this girl?_ Not to mention how much gel it probably took to grease his hair back. I hate the feeling of product in my hair.

"Beatrice," he greets her. That name does not match her at all. "It's so nice to meet you in person, I'm Agent Amar Hijazi." He extends his hand to her and she takes it hesitantly. She can't be part of the FBI if she doesn't shake hands often. I don't shake hands often, though… I can't read her!

They walk inside his office and I go to follow, until Amar blocks my way. I end up waiting outside trying to listen to the conversation. "... Special interest in you," I hear Amar say.

"Flagged?" She says.

"You are what we call a natural." Amar says. Before my mind can say 'no', I stumble in—tripping over myself. I regain my balance quickly.

"Amar, you can't just let random Stiffs off the street join the BAU!" I say aggressively. He needs to know that this is the FBI, not some club where we recruit members.

"This is _my_ program, Four." He says sternly. Yes, it is his program, but he's not the one who has to train the new guys. Amar and I stare at each other, neither one of us wanting to be the first one to look away—you lose if you look away.

"Umm… _program_?" The girl asks. She spins her chair to look between Amar and I. "You do realize I sell coffee, right?"

I give Amar a ' _I told you so'_ look. "You are a natural profiler," Amar says.

"I like to observe people," she says crossing her arms. I can't take how slow this is going. I decide to take things into my own hands. I sit down in the chair across from Beatrice, which gives me a look from Amar.

"You think you're good?" I ask sarcastically. I place my hands on my knees and make eye contact with her. She doesn't look away, which is strange. I profiled her as someone shy… but she demands my attention. "Would Amar play basketball or golf?"

"Basketball, but he'd like people to think it'd be golf." She says in a challenging way. _She doesn't like to be doubted._

I run my hand down my face in frustration. "So, I'd like to make a proposition." Amar says. "If you join us, we will take care of any medical expenses you need." Beatrice straightens in her chair. _This obviously interests her._ She's not sick, but a relative is. Not someone she's close with—but someone she thinks she owes.

I stop myself from profiling her when her eyes meet mine. I feel the urge to hide when she looks at me. You never know what another profiler sees when they look at you. That's why I've tried my whole career to avoid them. I don't think I'm getting out of this one.

"What do I have to do?" She asks. She directed her question at me for some reason. _To read me?_

Thankfully, Amar answers for me. "You'll be working with people like you and Four on profiling murderers, figuring out why they do what they do."

"Serial killers?" She asks in disbelief.

"Yes," Amar answers simply.

Then it hits me. I tell them, "Doesn't she have to take the test, with the other graduates?" _God, I'm smart._ This test takes years of classes and studying to pass—let alone complete. She won't pass, and then she'll leave. Like she never existed. Why am I sad about that?

"Yes, that's why I contacted her the day before." _Shit!_

I notice how confused she looks, but seems wary of asking. "The test is how we determine who joins us," I tell her. She nods to my words in acknowledgement.

Amar stands and makes his way to the door, opening it for both Beatrice and I. "I'll be expecting to see you tomorrow," Amar says.

I walk onto the elevator without thinking and Beatrice follows after. I feel her eyes on me, heating up the side of my face.

"Stop profiling me," I say. She looks towards the doors again and I look at her. She's small—like if I'd run into her, the impact would crush her. She wears a grey shirt that is almost a dress on her thin figure, with black tights.

"I can't profile you, but you can profile me?" She asks turning her head to meet my eyes. I feel my face heat up with embarrassment. I wasn't profiling her, I was looking her over. Assessing her—Who am I kidding… I was checking her out.

"You shouldn't join," I say looking back at the doors. I lean my back against the back wall. "This will wreck you."

Beatrice moves in front of me and places her hands on her hips. "You don't think I can handle it?" She says defensively. "Because I'm a girl, or small, or _what?_ "

"Listen, Beatrice—"

"Tris," She corrects. Tris sounds better.

"You don't understand," I say. I run my hands through my hair in aggravation. "This isn't some game. We deal with murderers… serial killers. You get in their heads— _or they get in yours_."

The elevator doors open and she steps out first. "I can handle myself," she mutters as she pushes open the doors to the front entrance.

"Undoubtedly," I say. She hesitates her next step out the door. She heard me, but she didn't reply… _I don't get her._

Beatrice POV

(Next Day)

I'm sitting in a room with probably more than one hundred people for this 'test' Amar wants me to take. I have no clue what this test is or what to expect.

"Nervous?" The girl beside me asks. I turn to look at her and give her a quick study. Shoulder length, dark brown hair. She has a skinny frame with a figure that complements her brown skin. She has black tights and a white flowy top. The way she can approach a stranger says she's friendly. "I'm Christina."

She extends her hand to me and I take it unsure of the movement. "Tris," I say. She takes the seat next to me and pulls out some notes.

"You don't need to study?" She says flipping through cards. "Quite the confidence."

"Amar just told me to come," I tell her. She stops flipping through her cards and looks at me. I must be missing something, because Christina looks like she saw a ghost. I go over what I said in my head to figure out what must be shocking—other than the fact that I'm taking a test for the BAU when I have no prerequisites. It must be Amar. I guess he's important to the FBI.

I look at her with my eyebrows raised, waiting for an explanation for her expression. "You're one of Amar's?" She asks in disbelief. I go to answer her, but a man starts speaking at the front.

"Today's test will take approximately ten to twelve hours to complete," The man says. I look around and notice how nobody is shocked. _Twelve hours?_ "We will take a break for lunch, which will be a one hour break." I check the clock on the wall which reads 5:40 a.m. In twenty minutes I'd be going to the café.

"Everyone please pick up your booklets from the front," The man says. I walk up to the front and run into someone.

"Sorry," I mumble. He just stares at me looking me up and down. I make an assessment of him. He has a kind face and very dark brown eyes with thick eyebrows. He looks tired especially because of the roughness of his cheeks which show that he went without shaving this morning. He has a distinct sweet and fresh smell, like sage and lemongrass. His build is broad and three times the size of me.

He shakes his head and his cheeks heat up. "I'm Al," He says handing me a booklet that's about an inch thick. "I haven't seen you here before." I want to get out of this conversation but I don't want to seem rude.

I shrug my shoulders and give him a smile before I turn back to my seat. I run my palms along my thighs to wipe off the sweat. I could run out of here and it won't affect me. I could go on with my life like this never happened. Problem is if I run out of here it will affect my dad. I need to pay his medical bills, and no thanks to Caleb bailing—I have to pay these bills myself.

The man at the front goes on about whatever as people take their seats. Until the clock turns to six and everyone flips open their booklets with a thud.

The first part is multiple choice so this shouldn't be that hard.

~o0o~

I raise my hand and wait for the man from the front to come up to me. "You have a question?" He says taking his glasses out of his pocket and unfolding them. I slide my booklet over to him.

"I'm done," I tell him. Christina flicks her head up.

"You can't possibly be done," he says angrily. "You come here and waste my time—?"

"It's not impossible," Christina interjects beside me. "The lowest time is four hours, and she finished in… six." I check the clock on the wall—11:56.

"You think you're done?" The man says looking back to me. I've checked it over twice, so I assume I'm good. It was pretty easy, I just had to figure out the person who wrote the test.

I nod my head.

"Lunch!" the man yells. He picks up my booklet and flicks the pages over, giving me side glances after each turn. He gets to the end and tucks the book at his sides.

I walk past him and push open the doors to the hallway. When I do, I run into none other than Four. "Hi," he says scratching the tattoo on the back of his neck. I can't tell if he's just itching or nervous. _Why would he be nervous?_

"Hey," I say as I brush past him into the hall. I hear his footsteps behind me, so I turn to see what he wants. When I turn he crashes into me. _How close was he walking?_ I fall backwards and Four leans forward to catch me, but I end up pulling him down too. Thankfully, Four falls beside me on his shoulder and I fall on mine. "Ow," I wince. "What the hell, Four?!" I slap his arm and he winces again. This is the second time I've injured my arm because of Four.

"Sorry," he says. He sits up and when he does his fingers brush mine. I feel electricity surge through my fingertips. I'm aware of how much space there is between us. Six inches. I push myself up and place my head in my hands. I'm already sore from sitting in there for six straight hours and now I probably have a bruise on my shoulder.

"Why were you following me?" I ask suddenly annoyed. Four stands and holds out a hand for me to take. I wrap my fingers around his wrist and he yanks me up on my feet. "You know, most stalkers stalk from a distance."

"I wasn't stalking you," he says defensively. "Amar wants me to see how the test is going." I start walking and Four follows beside me.

"The professor's a dick," I say. I see the corner of Four's mouth twitch. "Apparently I wasted his time. Which is strange since nobody else is finished." Four stands in front of me and places his hands on my shoulders to stop me. I look up at him and I notice how dark of a blue his eye's are, with a brighter blue in the corner iris.

"You're done?" He says. He must notice his hands on me because he hooks his thumbs in the belt loops of his jeans.

"How long did it take you?" I counter. Before he has a chance to say something someone calls his name from the end of the hall. I see a tall and handsome man, with bronzed skin and dark, brown eyes. His smile looks white against his bronze skin. He has brown hair and has a snake tattooed behind his ear.

"Hey, I'm Uriah." He says. He extends his hand and I shake it twice. He has a lift to his steps that tells me he's usually a happy person. "Profiler," he doesn't question, but he states. How would he know that? "You're confused."

"This is Tris," Four tells him. "Uriah's an emotion reader." Four places a hand on the small of my back to guide us down the hall.

"Too bad you have no emotions," Uriah retorts shoving Four's shoulder—the one he fell on. Four rubs his shoulder and shrugs it off. "So, Tris. You wanna come to lunch with us? My brother Zeke is gonna meet us there." Uriah wraps his arm around my shoulder and I notice Four stiffen out the corner of my eye. _Why does he distract me so much?_

~o0o~

The sun coming from the diner's window puts an uncomfortable glare on my eyes. I sit in a booth and Four slides in next to me, Uriah across from me and Zeke next to him. Uriah and Zeke are a lot alike; Just complete goofballs.

"How did you know I was a profiler?" I ask Uriah. Uriah takes a sip of his coke and pinches his lips into a line. He must do that when he's concentrating.

"You're profiling me right now," he says. He crosses his arms in front of him and leans back. "You have a tell."

"You squint your eyes a little when you profile and you bite the inside of your cheek when you're frustrated," Four says biting into a fry. I didn't expect Four to be a person who eats fast food—seeing as though he probably has a six pack under his shirt. "See?"

Uriah chokes on his drink and laughs staring at me. He can probably see the embarrassment plastered on my face from checking Four out. Zeke and Four look to Uriah for an explanation, which makes Uriah laugh more. I kick his shin under the table and he winces.

"Yeah, _profiling_." Uriah scoffs sarcastically. I kick his shin again. "Okay, Okay… Jesus. I gotta head back and since Tris is an overachiever I've got to walk alone." Uriah places a ten on the table and shoves Zeke out of the seat. I place a five on the table for my salad.

Zeke's phone rings and he answers as soon as he sees the caller ID. "Okay, I'm on my way." He places money on the table and rushes out the door. Once Zeke leaves a man with black greasy hair and multiple piercings approaches Four and I. He takes a chair from the table beside us and flips it around to sit on it backwards. I see a gun holster on his hip like Four's. When his eyes meet mine I notice how cold they look.

"Four," the man greets with a head nod. Four noticeably straightens his posture. I guess this man has some sort of authority. He doesn't seem to threaten him, but he definitely makes Four anxious. I rest my chin on my hand to show a calm exterior. He turns his attention to me and smiles. "Who's your friend here?"

Four takes a long sip of his drink before answering, "This is Tris." He says it in a mockingly friendly voice. "What do you want, Eric?" He asks the man—Eric, in a now not so friendly voice. I notice how Four tries not to make eye contact.

"Max tells me Amar's got a new Stiff," Eric says. I can tell 'Stiff' is slang for something. Four called me a one when Amar was offering me a job. Max must be someone of higher power, the way Eric mentioned him.

"Like I said," Four claims. "This is Tris."

Eric does a double take. "No shit." He laughs. "But she's… _hot_." Something about him makes me want to run. I know he sees that as a complement, but to me he seems malicious. He gives me a flirtatious smile which is gratefully interrupted by my cellphone.

"Hello?" I answer, grateful I don't have to talk to Eric anymore. "Hello?" I say after there's no answer. I hear breathing from the other side of the line, but no answer. I hang up the phone and shove it in my pocket. Four looks at me with his eyebrows raised. I shrug, "Wrong number, I guess."

"Hey, can I get your number?" Eric asks me. Eric seems like a man not to mess with. I'm worried about how he will react if I say no. I take out my phone and hand it to him and he wiggles his eyebrows at Four to brag. "I'll see you around," Eric says standing up. He pats Four on the shoulder a little too hard and says goodbye the same way he greeted him, "Four."

"Asshole," Four and I both mutter under our breath. I look at Four to see him already looking at me. I laugh and after a second Four laughs too. His laugh is deep and soft.

"Here," Four says placing a ten on the table and sliding me my five. "Accept it as an apology for being an asshole yesterday." I smile in appreciation. Four isn't as bad as I thought. I profiled him as a closed off person, but he seems to want to be friends with me. I can't profile much about him, though. He's a person who keeps his guard up for sure. For some reason, I want to be someone he can let his guard down with.

 _You_

 _You've chosen, and you've chosen well._

 _You kill her in a motel. Nobody sees you enter, nobody sees you leave. You put duct tape over her mouth. You have to imagine her screams, but the look in her eyes is worth it._

 _You pocket the knife, because the feeling of your hands around her neck is all too exciting._

 _The first kill should be rushed, but this is only the beginning for you._

 _You watch as the light leaves her eyes. You keep eye contact with the whore the whole time—not missing even a second. Her pale green eyes all too familiar, but not close enough. She stills in your grasp and you release the poor woman._

 _She's not her._

 _You move her hands over her heart. The heart that is no longer beating because of you. You brush her hair away to reveal her face._

 _She's not her._

 _You cross her legs at the ankles._

 _She deserves to die! She left! You look down at the lifeless body again._

 _She's not her._

 _The skimpy dress—she would never wear—lays on the floor. You pick it up and fold it neatly, placing it in the hands of the whore._

 _You stare into her dead eye's._

 _She's not her._

 _It can't be her. Her jaw is too soft and her hair is too short. Her cheekbones are high, but that's the work of makeup. This could never be her._

 _You pick up the brush and comb her hair. You feel the skin on her cheek gently and wipe away the tears under her eyes. The heavy makeup washes off by the touch of your hand. Beautiful._

 _But she's still not the woman you want._


	2. Newbie

Beatrice POV

 **5 years old**

My mother lifts me onto the fountain edge and takes a spot next to me. She nods to a woman and I take notice of her. She wears a bright pink top and jeans, she's wearing boots that I'd recognize on a ranch. "Horses," I tell my mom. She gives me a bright smile to indicate it's my turn.

"What would make… him happy?" I point to a man in a mall security uniform.

My mother takes my hand with a bit of force. "Beatrice," my mother scolds. "You don't point at people."

"Why do we play this game, mom?" I peer up at her and she encloses both her hands around mine.

"You're a natural," she says.

"Natural?" I ask. I've heard my mother say this to me numerous times, but I never have asked her what it means.

"It's like an instinct to you," my mother says. "You'll be an amazing psychic."

"Not as good as you."

Tris POV

Chapter 2 (Early October)

It's been one week since I took the test. Maybe I failed, or the professor didn't even bother grading my booklet. I didn't expect to make it, but a part of me is a little upset about it. I guess I wanted it more than I thought.

I'm interrupted by the sting of coffee on my hand. "Fuck," I breathe out. I drop the screwdriver I was using on the ground. This place is cheap and if we have to replace another coffee machine than it's coming out of my paycheck.

I hate how easy it is for me to get lost in thought. I get the napkins and bend down to clean up the mess. My phone dings, and I get another text from Eric. I shove the phone into my back pocket without responding again.

"Quite the mouth on you," says a man on the other side of the register. I throw out the napkins and tighten my bun. The strands that fall get really annoying and my boss won't let me wear a headband because it's considered 'out of uniform.'

"I'm sorry," I apologize. Although, I don't know why I would apologize in a place like this. Just last week I was called a bitch because we charge extra for butter packets. I charged them for sugar packets after that for being rude.

"Don't be," he says. It now registers in my mind who's voice that belongs to. "When I guy texts you—you text back, common knowledge."

"Oh, hey Eric." I say not bothering to look up at him. I can already see the expression on his face form in my mind. He doesn't like to be turned down, and when he does—he doesn't give up. "I've been working."

"When do you get off?" He asks fast. I don't really have anything to do after, and him coming here just to talk to me proves he's committed. I know he's not one to stay in a relationship, and that's good because I would never see him that way. "I wanna take you out for coffee."

"I could use coffee," I say. I check out and tell the manager I'm off for the rest of the day. Best part of working in a place like this is it's rarely busy. Yesterday only ten people came and one of them was my grand-mère Edith. She's not from Chicago, but she came to live with my dad ever since he was diagnosed with liver cancer. Not surprising, he's been drinking it into failure ever since my mom died.

Which sucks for me because I have to watch over his shop while he's in the hospital. Not much of a chance. If he wasn't in the hospital, he'd be in a bar. My father is a mechanic. He used to teach me some things on his good days, but I can't remember a time when he was sober.

~o0o~

Eric takes me to a fancy coffee shop near Amar's office. When I get inside I notice the girl at the counter is Christina. She has a green apron on and her hair is covered by a hat. Eric and I walk up the the counter and she notices me first.

"Tris!" She exclaims. Her tone lessens into disgust when she sees Eric. "Seriously… Eric? Heads up, he's a dick." She laughs. I love how bold she is, considering Eric is right in front of her and can obviously hear her by the scowl on his face.

"Wanna see something cool," Eric says. He hands me a coffee and wraps a hand around my hip. I shuffle away and he seems to get the hint, but I see an eyeroll which pisses me off. It's not just the fact that I don't want to be near him, he doesn't wear much cologne.

We end up at the building Amar works at. Only this floor has people working at desks scattered around. It's loud and there are papers everywhere. Eric hands me a paper with a picture of a woman. Her body is laid out peacefully. Her hands rest on her heart which holds her dress, while her legs are crossed at the ankles. Her hair is fanned out around her head like a halo. I'd think it were beautiful if it weren't for the bruising around her neck.

The paper is snached out of my hands and I look up to see who it is. "Hey, Four…" I say. He looks down at the paper and then back at me, and then at Eric. His expression turns to anger as he looks back at Eric.

"Why the hell would you show her this?" Four says holding up the picture. I don't see why it's a big deal that I see this. I know they are very confidential, but the had investigators follow me for possibly weeks.

Eric shrugs, "I need her help."

"You're fucking joking, right?" Four laughs. He runs his hands through his hair in aggravation. "Max would never sign off on this!" I'm assuming Max runs the apartment Eric works for. I wonder what Eric does. He asks a lot of questions when he's not observing so I assume investigation.

"But Amar did," Eric says. I step in between them and throw my hands up to show I'm still here. People tend to forget I'm here. Eric's eyes meet mine and he acknowledges my presence. "We're trying to find a serial killer and Four's got nothing."

"Lemme see the picture again," I say turning to Four. I go to reach for the photo, but he moves his hand in the air. I literally have to look up at Four so there's no use in trying to reach it. I cross my arms and try to negotiate, "Ten minutes."

"Five," he says. He moves swiftly into an office and places picture on a bulletin board with a pin. I follow him in and he sits on the desk. I examine the picture on the board along with the several others. She looks familiar, but I'm positive I don't know her.

"He's strong," I say thinking outloud. Her neck is purple and you can see the man's fingers across her neck. She has bruising around her mouth. He must have held her from behind. She has marks on her arms. _She fought back._

"Say 'the UNSUB' or 'you' or 'I'," Four says from behind me. He has his arms crossed over his chest like mine. His eyes stay planted on the floor like he's memorizing it. "Never assume the killer's gender, that's how we make mistakes."

I try to get into the head of the killer, but I find myself playing the victim. "I go to the motel to meet you," I say as if I was there. I look over at the photo next to it. The knob is dented and jammed. "I enter the room, but you're not there so I go to leave… but the door is jammed." I walk over to the office door and think of it as the motel door. "But, how could you have gotten in?"

"Unless I'm already in the room," Four says from behind me. I notice how he takes the killer's perspective. I can feel his presence behind me. I walk over to the board again and look over the room pictures. There's a closet. I point to it and Four nods his head.

"You attack me from behind," I say. I walk back over to the door and place my hand on the knob. I'd be trying to open the door if I was trapped. Four's hand wraps around my arm the same way the woman's bruising is. I move my elbow slowly into Four's abdomen because that would be her first instinct.

Four wraps his free hand around my other arm so I wouldn't be able to fight well enough to get free. "How did nobody hear me?" I say more to myself then to Four. Four wraps one arm to hook both behind me and places a hand over my mouth. I bite down carefully on his hand and he moves I away. That wouldn't work.

The door swings open and I hop back so it doesn't hit me and fall back into Four. He catches me by my elbow and I wince from the bruise that formed from hitting it on the wall the day I met Four. Asshole Four—not nice Four.

"Sorry," Four apologizes. Eric walks in and takes the picture back off the board without a second glance in our direction. "Stop taking the pictures off the board."

"Five minutes are up," he says tossing a candy in his mouth. When he gets at the door he turns back around and hands me an envelope. I look at him with eyebrows raise in question. "Test results are in."

I open the envelope quickly and the first word is 'Congratulations'. I flip the pages over until I get to the marked section. "Holy shit!" I exclaim. Four leans his head over my shoulder and his breaths flutter against my ear.

"Ninety-eight percent," Four says in disbelief. "Holy shit!" He laughs and pats me on the back in congratulations. I see people staring at us through the half opened door. They must not see a happy Four often. Why is he happy if he didn't want me here?

He doesn't move from behind me until Uriah walks in with a hop in his step. He lean his head over the paper, blocking Four and I's view. When he looks back at us he laughs a little. I put on a straight face. When Eric walked in I felt like he barged in on something. "Did I interrupt something here?"

"No," Four and I say at the same time. Uriah looks back and forth between us and we stand there until Uriah just shrugs.

"We've got a possible victim of the case you're working on," Uriah states. This UNSUB works fast. "Tris, wanna come?" I'm really interested in this case now. I feel like I can actually help. I nod my head and Four doesn't object.

"She waits in the car," Four says sternly to him. Uriah gives a salute and grabs my arm to go out to the parking lot. Uriah hops in the driver's seat of a standard Cadillac SUV. I get in the back and Four goes in the front. When we get there I notice there are cop cars surrounding the motel. "You stole Zeke's radio again?"

"At least we're first one on the scene," Uriah shrugs. Zeke knocks on the car window and Uriah slides it down about an inch. Zeke looks mad but Uriah keeps smiling. Uriah wines, "Come' on, we're already here!"

Uriah and Four exit the car and I go to leave too, but Four closes my door right away. I understand why I shouldn't be aloud out, but what good can I do in here? "How far could he have gone?" Uriah asks.

"Not far, we got the call two minutes ago." Zeke says. That means he's probably still on the scene. "He killed the mother and the son, but we think he took the girl." They start walking towards the motel as they put on bulletproof vests and I look out the window.

"Walk, or I'll shoot you." I hear someone whisper. I look to the alleyway where I see a girl—about twelve walk down. He walks slowly towards the car until he's right by the door. His back is facing me. He walks backwards with the girl is about two meters away. The guy looks from right to left. He violently hits the girl with the gun so she is on the ground.

I don't know when I make the conscious decision to leap—but I do. I open the car door and grab the gun out of his hands. He punches me in the jaw, but I threw the gun away fast enough. I hear a gunshot as the pistol hits the ground under the car. I yell for people in pain as the man searches for his gun under the car.

The girl runs as Zeke jumps on the man and yanks his arms behind his back. Uriah holds the girl, who is crying and Four picks me up off the ground. He puts both of his hands on either side of my face and checks me for anymore injuries, other than the obvious bruise that's probably forming on my jaw.

"Are you okay?!" Four shouts in my face. I nod my head and Four moves his hands to my shoulders. "Are you insane? Do you have any regards for your own life?"

"He was going to shoot her, Four!" I say defensively. I'm really insulted by his comment. "I couldn't just watch." Four looks like he's going over it in his head—thinking of what to say next.

"I know," he says. I didn't expect that.

"You alright, Tris?" Uriah asks me. I nod my head. "Let's get you to the hospital." I touch my jaw with my fingertips and feel blood. He must have hit me harder than I thought.

"I'm fine," I say my words in a hoarse voice. They both eye me suspiciously. "Really guys, I'm fine." Four opens the car door form me and I get in.

"It wasn't the same killer," Four says when he gets in. Is the killer waiting for a time to strike? Was it a one time thing? "It's been a week… I just don't get it."

"What if the girl was the UNSUB's first?" I say. They know the loops it takes to become an organized killer. No one saw them, and no one heard them. Four doesn't respond, but I know what he's thinking.

Four POV

(Next Day)

I walk into Amar's office. I decided to confront him about Tris. She cannot join us. She has no regards for her own life, she won't make it here. She can't just jump at people—no, killer's when she's not armed. And I sure as hell not letting her near a gun.

"What's the problem, Four?" Amar says. He doesn't look up from his desk, but he knows there's something wrong. I used to idolize Amar. He was the best profiler I know. _Was_ being the key word. How can he just let Tris in here. I was born into this… I didn't have a choice. Tris does. She doesn't realize how lucky she is to be normal.

" _She_ is the problem!" I said starting to pace. "She doesn't _think!_ She saw him there and he had a gun, a _gun_ and she just jumped at him as if a bullet can't do shit!" I didn't see Amar get up, but I see the door open to his office and his chair empty.

I follow him out into the hallway, but Amar doesn't turn to me. "Are you even listening?" I ask him. Amar flips through papers in his hands reading the text as if I don't exist. "She's careless, reckless with her own life. Insebordant!"

"I told you, Four." Amar says still reading the text with his glasses perched on the tip of his nose. "I will not be discussing Miss Prior with you." Amar enters the photocopy room and places the notes he was reading on the machine.

"I want her out," I say. "She's a danger to herself and others and I won't have her on my team."

Amar tilts his glasses up above his eyebrows and finally makes eye contact with me. "That's not really up to you," he says.

"I won't teach her," I said stubbornly.

Amar starts pushing in buttons and sighs. "You will teach her. Jeannine gave me strict—"

"Jeannine?" I ask cutting him off. What would she want with a girl like Tris. Jeannine only does things that benefit herself. What could Tris have that she wants? The copy machine stops and pulls me from my thoughts.

"Jeannine will be working this new case with us," Amar says with a bit of irritation in his voice. Nobody likes Jeannine. Max is threatening, but Jeannine owns him. "If you're lucky, maybe she'll take her off your hands. She has a thing for Naturals."

I want Tris gone, but that doesn't mean I want to hand her over to some monster. She will stop at nothing to get what she wants. Just thinking about her sends shivers down my spine.

"She's setting up a team, using _my_ students… I don't like this anymore than you," Amar says. I peer down at the papers he just photocopied and laugh. Not a funny laugh, but more psychotic.

"You're letting them interview him?" I say angrily. I'd recognize that prisoner number anywhere.

"Not my call, Four." Amar says nonchalantly. "He's the most cooperative."

"He's a serial killer, I don't think any of them are _cooperative_."

Amar places a hand on my shoulder and says, "You don't have to go. I can tell Eric you're taking the week off or…" I stop listening to Amar, because his voice just seems to make things worse. Eric knows. What if he tells them? I can't quit, or move. I'd be tormented until they drive me to insanity.

I can't face Marcus, not now not ever. Amar saved me when he locked him up. He undid that when he brought me to this place to be used. I never asked for this. Sometimes I wish my mother was still around. But, she's gone… because he killed her.

 _You_

 _She knows she's not fooling anyone. She keeps up this charade, telling you what you want to hear. What she_ thinks _you want to hear._

 _You aren't listening anymore, though. The only thing you can focus on is her neck. How it will feel around your hands. What it will feel like when the light leaves her eyes. It's been a week and you already miss the sensation._

 _But this one will be different. It's not just the flow of her black hair, or the way her eyes give an appearance of a cat without makeup. It will be different because this one will send a message. This one will tell her._

 _You take the knife from your pocket. Freshly sharpened. You run the blade down her neck, making the most simple of designs in her flesh. The blood is vibrant on her skin. She gurgles on her own blood and you know the deed is done._

 _You hum to yourself as you prepare her body. As you prepare the message. One that's directed to one person only. The game isn't done yet though, no. This is only one of many pawns. Until one pawn is left standing. And that pawn is you._


	3. New Home

Four POV

(Late October)

I feel like I'm forgetting something. I walk into my office to look at my to-do list. "Uriah!" I shout. Uriah runs into my office tripping over his own feet. I turn to face him and say, "Why does my to-do list say ' _remove head from ass_?'"

Zeke snickers behind him. "I don't know," Uri says shrugging. "But if it's on there, you gotta do it, right?" I rip of the sticky note and through it in the trash, giving him a snarl when I face back.

Zeke leans on the door frame and gives me a look I haven't seen on him before. "Have you talked to Tris yet?" Zeke crosses his arms in front of his chest and Uriah sits crossed legged on my desk.

"Amar never told me to," I said grabbing my jacket. I know I was supposed to remember something… What was it? It's not like me to forget things.

"You seem like you don't like her," Uriah says. They keep getting in on my business. I've gotten used to it by now, having lived with the idiots when I was a kid.

I search my pockets for my car keys, but I can't find them. I curse under my breath and look through my desk drawers. It's then that I realize I haven't answered them—not that they deserve an explanation. "That's because I don't." I answer simply.

"How could you not like Tris!" Uriah shouts angrily. In all truth, I don't mind Tris as a person. She's selfless and brave. The things I admire about her complicate this job. It's because she's so selfless and brave that she goes throwing herself at armed men.

"She's annoying," I tell them as I walk past.

Zeke blocks my way before I can leave. "Oh please, Tris can make a rock fall in love with her if she smiled at it the right way." He's not wrong. Tris is impeccably beautiful—which is not something I notice often in women. She doesn't try like other girls—which somehow makes her even more beautiful.

Uriah's expression changes and he raises his eyebrows. "Weren't you supposed to bring Amar's computer to the mechanics?"

That was what I was supposed to remember! I don't know why he wants me to bring it there, but I've learned not to question him. Usually, Zeke or I would fix the computer, but Amar was really persistent on _me_ going to get it fixed.

Tris POV

I slide out from under the car and wipe the sweat of my brow. I hate how much work I do here and I don't get any reward for it. My father would scold me for even thinking of the money.

My cargo pants get snagged on a pipe and the screws that were in the pocket come falling out. I curse as I see the blood on my knee and start picking up the screws. Thankfully Susan comes and helps me. Susan Black is my father's work friend's kid. She usually comes by to deliver me my lunch or see Caleb. I don't know if I'd consider her a friend or not, but she's certainly better than Caleb who only comes by to make sure I don't mess things up.

"There's a scary looking man out there," Susan says to me. I roll my eyes because most people who come here aren't too friendly. Susan is always hangs around cheerful people, so she doesn't know most of the common guys who come in here. I retie my hair up in a messy bun head towards the front.

I sit down at the desk so I can check out the gash in my knee. _Clunk._ Something slams on the desk which startles me and I bring my head up but end up slamming it on the bottom of the desk. "Ow," I hiss as I rub the back of my head. "How can I help you?" I turn on my chair and place the screws on the other desk. I hear Caleb coming so I try my best to avoid him. I place a pencil in my mouth so I can wipe the grease off my hands.

I now realize that the customer hasn't answered me. The pencil drops from my mouth when I see Four. He has a computer on my desk. "What are you doing here?" Four asks.

"I work here...sort of," I say, not feeling like I owe him an explanation. "What's wrong with it?"

He looks confused for a second before looking down at the computer. "Oh, I don't know," he says shrugging. "That's the reason I brought it."

"I mean," I say slightly annoyed. "What's it doing wrong?" Once again, he shrugs. I know Four isn't talkative, but answering simple questions he should be able to do. I roll my eyes and open the side so I can see the motherboard. I look at it but nothing seems to be wrong.

"I thought you worked at the coffee shop?" Four says. Four looks over the desk and asks, "Is it broken?"

"I do, and I think." I say. Four lifts his hand and presses a thumb to my brow. I recoil a little but he doesn't flinch. I look down at his thumb and see grease from the car on it. He rubs it on his jeans and hooks his thumbs in his belt loops.

"Yeah, but broken isn't the same as unfixable." I turn my head up and my breath hitches in my throat from how close we are. I look back down at the computer before he has time to make eye contact.

The door chimes as Caleb comes in and totally ignores Four as he rounds his way around the desk. He works at the hospital so he's still in his scrubs. He swipes off the desk and places some papers on the desk. The screws I just picked up go rattling on the floor.

Caleb leaves and he's almost at the door when Four speaks up. "Aren't you going to pick those up?" I give a sharp glare at Four.

"What makes you think you can talk to me that way?" He said. Four starts to to say something but I grab his arm to stop him. There's no way I'm letting Four get me in trouble with dad. He may not be in charge of me anymore, but he still has my belongings in his name.

Caleb leaves and I turn my chair so I can look at these papers. Caleb wasn't always bad. I have memories from when we were kids, though they are faint. They could be dreams, but I'd like to think we were happy once.

I start picking up the screws and Four walks onto the other side to help me. His hand skims mine and I feel a jolt of electricity and wonder if he felt it too. _Stupid!_ I scold myself. _Of course he didn't..._

Four hands me the rest of the screws. When I look up at him, I realize that before wasn't all that close. _This_ is close. I can feel the heat radiating off his body. I feel the urge to be close to him. About six inches away from my face is his.

Susan clears her throat behind me and I jump, causing my knee to sting. "Was Caleb just here?" I nod. When I turn back to Four he's scratching his neck nervously. Susan isn't at all talkative, so she's a bit socially awkward. "Are you the handsome jerk or Awkwardly nice guy?" I clear my throat in hopes she'll get the hint. "I thought I could rule out human pincushion."

I snort and look back to the computer. I plug it in and press the power but nothing happens. I bring my fist up and slam it onto the computer. I see Four flinch out of the corner of my eye. "Are you sure you're a mechanic?" Four asks.

"Best in Illinois," Susan says. "My father brings the cars he sells here. Beatrice always does a wonderful job."

I flinch at my full name. I pull my attention back to the computer and look inside. "Ah-ha!" I say as I pull out a blue USB with the word Erudite on it. The computer's fan starts whirring and I know it's good. I toss Four the USB and he stares at it like it's on fire. "I guess the computer couldn't handle the data you were taking off it. Though, I don't know why it was on the inside."

"I don't think Amar knew it was there," Four says pocketing the USB.

~o0o~

I enter my house and my grand-mére greets me at the door with some cookies. My grand-mére is a stereotypical grandmother. She's both very nice, and very french. She has less of an accent, now that she has been in America for almost a year or two.

"Beatrice, your bags are packed and Matthew will be here soon." She said as she places the cookies on the counter. I give her a confused look and she pushes me towards the washroom. She's old so I just assume she's confused. "Now, get cleaned up."

I do as I'm told, not wanting to face her wrath. When I'm done I get changed in a baggy black shirt with a tank top underneath that my grandmother laid out for me. I head into my room and see that my drawers are open and empty. "Uhh, Grand-mére?" I ask. I look out in the hallway and see a suitcase containing my belongings. "Are you kicking me out?"

"Amar called me," she said. "And said that you are to live with some FBI people?" She said it as if she were questioning herself. Just then, a knock on the door startles me. So great, I'm getting kick out of my house that _I_ pay for!

I open the door and see Matthew with his hands in his pockets. "So we meet again," he said. My grand-mére brings my suitcase up for Matthew to take and I feel anger bubbling in me. "Bonjour, Mrs. Prior." My grandmother smiles at him and gives a headnod.

Matthew takes my suitcase and I swat his hand away. "You can't just kick me out!" I say to my grand-mére. She hands Matthew the suitcase again and I don't swat him away this time. Fine, if she want to kick me out then I won't pay the bills anymore.

"Goodbye, sweetheart." She said as she gives me a kiss on the forehead and pushes me out the door. Matthew places the suitcase in the trunk of a black limo-like car. He opens the door for me and I get in.

"Where are we going?" I asked Matthew as soon as he took the seat next to me. The driver catches my eye in the mirror, but quickly looks away. Matthew shrugs and his smile brightens my mood a little more. "So for all I know, you could be plotting my murder."

"Pretty much," Matthew said.

The drive wasn't long until we stopped outside a private jet. Matthew opens my door for me and I grab my bag—feeling bad about making Matthew carry it again—and head towards the ramp. A man takes the suitcase and tells me to go in.

I've never been on a plane before, so I follow Matthew to the back. There are other people here, but I don't recognize them much. I sit down and a figure slams into the seat next to me. "Tris!" A squealing sound that could only belong to Christina says. "I can't believe you're here!"

"Me neither," I said looking around. "Why _am_ I here?"

"Jeannine Matthews," Christina said like the name was sour. I raise an eyebrow at her as if to say ' _who?'_ "Jeannine basically runs the system. She decided to pick the top students in their first years to help out with a special case happening in Canada."

"Canada?" I ask in disbelief. I've never been to Canada before that I can remember. The way my mother and I lived—I wouldn't be surprised if I did. "But, I'm not even a student…"

Christina's smile falls and she puts a finger to her lips. "People don't respond well to Naturals here in the BAU." Christina warns. "Best to keep that to yourself."

"So this case…?" I ask changing the subject back.

"We think it's a serial killer, but Amar told us not to get ahead of ourselves." Christina says. "The first kill was in Illinois, so we were working on it, but a couple of bodies have been showing up with the same display in Canada. Not to mention Marcus Eaton is in Millhaven Institution—"

"Who's Marcus Eaton?"

"You don't know him?" Christina asks in disbelief. "He's a mastermind. Over 123 victims. Nobody even suspected him. All those murders… nobody knew. I've gone over all his interview tapes and never detected a lie."

Christina seems lots in her thoughts when Amar addresses us. Amar clears his throat and everyone's attention turns to him. "When we land," Amar starts. "You will be free to do whatever you like so long as you inform Bud or I on your whereabouts." Behind Amar, an ex-military man gives a small wave. His hair I can tell was black before it turned white. Under his jacket, I can see some tattoos which I assume are sleeves. "Bud will be your caretaker while we're in Quebec."

"Quebec?" Someone asks. "But isn't Millhaven in Bath, _Ontario_?"

"What makes you think you're going to Millhaven?" Eric asked as he brushed past Amar and Bud. "I'm in charge of the investigation."

The plane lifts off and I listen to Christina talk to me about clothes and shoes and how Quebec will be so much fun. I don't contribute much to the conversation, but that doesn't seem to bother Christina.

Once we were on the ground again we took a car to a house. The road was dirt with trees on either side of it. I can't see any neighbors from here. The house has vines growing up the side of the red brick and the windows. Bud opens the house and I hear some familiar people. In the kitchen I see Zeke and Uriah.

When they see me they give me their huge identical smiles. "Tris!" Uriah shouts. Uriah gives me a hug that lifts me off my feet. Uriah wraps a hand around my shoulders in a friendly manner and turns to Zeke. "She got chosen, but you didn't?" I would take offense if it weren't a reasonable question. But, wait…

"I'm staying with Amar in a house down the road," Zeke said rummaging through the fridge like he owns it. "Plus, Four might go mad if he's by himself with all of you for too long."

I tense under Uriah's arm. "Four's here?" I ask.

"He'll be here in a couple of minutes…" Amar says. Amar seems annoyed at that. "Hana offered to drive him."

"Mom's coming?" Uriah and Zeke ask at the same time. Amar nods and Zeke straightens his posture. "19 hours in a car with Four…" Uriah shakes his head. Four must not be a fan of planes if he would rather spend 19 hours in a car.

Christina grabs my arm before I have a chance to add to the conversation. She pulls me towards the stairs and up into the hallway. She explains how the only other girl here is someone named Tori, but she already has the office space, so we should share a room.

The room she pulls me into is nothing but a closet and two double sized beds. Christina takes the one closest to the door. The walls are a beige wallpaper to match the bed sheets. I look out the windows and see that there is a pool in the back as well as a shed.

"Timmy's!" Shouts a feminine voice from down stairs. Christina and I head back down stairs into the kitchen where a woman holds up a box with red letters saying _Tim Horton._ " _Very_ Canadian."

Uriah pulls out a ball that resembles a donut texture. He pops it in his mouth and smiles. Timbits. " _Very_ tasty." Everyone digs in and Uriah pulls me over. "Mom, where's Four?"

"In the car," she said. She's definitely not apart of the FBI, with her soft expressions.

Four walks in with no greeting, carrying boxes. He takes the first door to the left that heads into the garage. Zeke follows, shoving a timbit in his mouth.

Four POV

Hana pulls up in the driveway of the house and I stumble out. I refused to fly in the plane. Being up so high… I wouldn't be able to make it. What I didn't know, is how car sick I would get. I place both hands on the hood of the car to steady myself.

"You okay, Four?" Hana asked rubbing my back. I nod and close my eyes. Hana is like a mother to me. She took me in after… _Marcus_. The name is just as bitter to think about it as it is to say. I have to see him. I know I do. "I'm going to head in then."

I wait out there for a little to compose myself. Once I no longer feel nauseous, I make my way inside carrying my belongings. Hana said she'd do some shopping for Zeke, Uriah, and I—so I only brought two outfits.

I turn left into the garage—where I'll be staying—without seeing who's here. I've been here once before years ago. Marcus became a citizen when he was done with Illinois. Not under the same identity, but they kept him in Canada, as a transfer would be too risky. Too many _fans._ People worship him. If only they knew they weren't real.

 _Listen here, my boy. People aren't real. They don't matter._

I shake my head to rid it of Marcus' voice. Zeke comes in after me and I take a seat on the bed. It's a two car garage, so I'll use the other half for working out. Amar took me here after Marcus was discovered. The FBI owns only three houses in Canada. One in Quebec, one in Toronto, and one in Ottawa. Quebec has the biggest house.

"You okay?" Zeke asked me ask he sits down on the floor in front of me. He tilts his head up to look at the pictures hanging from the ceiling. The pictures of woman he killed. I remember. All their dead bodies. "I know this place holds a lot of memories…"

I take out the blue statue replicating water and put it on the night table. The only thing I have left of her. I look up at the pictures again. How easy it would be to kill each one of them. How easy it _was for him_.

All left naked on display. Display. Marcus would mark each one of them. A simple "E" burned onto the skin. I feel the sting of it on my chest—covered by ink. I'm marked. I'm his. _I_ was supposed to take his place. I could.

 _Stop!_ I scold myself. _People are real. People matter._

Zeke rests a hand on my knee and smiles weakly. "You're not like him."

"I could be…"

"No, you can't." Zeke said it with full confidence I almost believe him. "What's your middle name again?"

"What?"

"Starts with a _J_ right?"

"Why?"

"All serial killers have middle names," Zeke explains. "Johann ' _Jack'_ Unterweger, Robert ' _Willy'_ Pickton…"

Just the fact that he knows those names means he spends too much time with me. "It's James," I conceded.

"Tobias James _Eaton_ … _Tobias_ James Eaton… Tobias _James_ Eaton…" Zeke tested, saying it in different voices and expressions. "See, doesn't sound right, you can't be a killer." Although the logic doesn't make sense—it does make me feel better. "Plus, you suck with the ladies."

Marcus was amazing at luring woman in. His charm, and good will… they'd fall for it every time.

Zeke and I hear shouting outside. I leave the garage and see people in the livingroom. I see Uriah doing pushups—shirtless—on the ground with Tris laying on his back. Next to him is Will, with Christina on his back.

I don't know where Eric is, but the bigger guy—Al—watches Tris in a way that makes me want to step in between them. I decided to leave it, reluctantly going to sit on the couch with Zeke.

"42, 43, 44—" Al stops counting their pushups when Will crashes to the floor. Uriah stands and when Tris gets off his back, I relax a little. He pumps his fist in the air and highfives Tris. Her smile brightens the room and her laugh is light—Not like Christina, who's laugh is loud and annoying.

"Okay, you win." Will conceded. "Al, Candor or Dauntless?"

"Candor," Al said.

"Pansycake!" Uriah shouts as he sits next to me. Everyone rolls their eyes and Will continues.

"Kiss, marry, kill…" Will holds his hand to his chin in a thinking position—scanning the room. "Christina, Tris, Tori." I turn my head and see Tori minding her own business at the kitchen table. I can see what she is drawing from here—ravens, taking off in flight.

"Kiss Christina… Marry Tris…" I shift uncomfortably in my spot. "Sorry Tori." Tori waves her hand, but stays focused on her drawing. "Tris, Candor or Dauntless?"

"Dauntless," Tris said shyly. You can tell she doesn't like attention on her.

"Jump in the pool!" Uriah shouts. I look to Al and he nods.

"What if I don't want to?" Asks Tris. She doesn't say it in a stubborn way, but in more of a nervous tone. She must not like swimming… but the way she shift means she might not know how.

"You have to take of an article of clothing," Christina said pointing at her shirt. Tris' cheeks flush and she pulls off her shirt, but has a tanktop underneath. I don't have to be an emotion reader to see the disappointment on Al's face.

Tris' attention turns to Zeke and she doesn't bother asking the question. "I dare you to…" Tris leans over and whispers something in his ear. Zeke laughs and goes to the fridge. When he walks back over to us, he keeps a hand behind his back.

Zeke lunges forward and smacks me across the face with whipcream. I stand quickly and jump over the couch. He shrieks as he starts running away from me, while the others laugh. The back door slides open and I end up pushing Zeke into the pool.

I wipe my face on my sleeve when I walk back in. Zeke sits in a puddle of water on the floor. "I told you Uriah!" Tris shrieks with laughter. I glare at Zeke and he just shrugs.

"Four, c or d?" Zeke asks me. I answer Dauntless, because candor always leads to follow up questions and too personal things. "I dare you to let Tris sit on your lap for the rest of the game." I stiffen. I'm so going to get him back for this.

"Why does he get the good dares?" Al asks. I can tell this embarrasses Tris.

"Because the world isn't fair, Albert," Will answers. "And the world is conspiring against you."

After being pushed by Christina, Tris sits gently on my lap. Her butt grazes against me, which causes a painful/pleasurable movement. I try my best to think of dead puppies or something to stop the thoughts flooding through my mind.

"Earth to Four!" Zeke shouts.

"Oh, right…" I say embarrassed. "Tori?"

"Candor," she said still lost in her drawing.

"How many tattoos do you have?" I ask. Tori takes a minute, counting on her fingers.

"Twenty-something?" She said unsurely. "Christina, candor or dauntless?" Tori finally turns in her stool so her elbows rest on the countertop. Christina chooses candor. "I can play three instruments, I have a brother, I used to work at a tattoo parlor—which one's a lie?"

Tori talks to people, but she always seems to be closed off. Not that I'm one to judge, but unless her father is a famous serial killer—I don't understand why she would keep people at a distance. _I wonder what my life would be like without Marcus._

"The first one," Christina said with full confidence. Tori smirks and goes back to her sketch. Christina must me a good lie detector if she can figure out Tori. I've worked with her for years, but Tori knows how to keep a profiler out of her head. Sometimes I notice her doing small things to lead me in the wrong directions when I finally think I've figured her out.

"Uriah!" Christina chirps. "I dare you to scare Bud."

Uriah gets up, but ends up pulling off his pants when we hear Bud yell from the office space, "Don't bother!"

"Will, you already know the question." Uriah said still upset. He crosses his arms in a way that reminds me of a child. After Will chooses dauntless, Uriah turns to Zeke. "Still got whipped cream left?" Zeke nods, while Will visibly stiffens. "I dare you to eat the entire thing!" Will relaxes and Uriah looks around confused. "Why, what did you think I was gonna say?"

"N-nothing…" Will said flushed. Everyone stares at him for an extra second before he claps his hands and heads to the kitchen. Everyone goes to follow so I assume, Tris and I are allowed too—but Zeke demands we _do not move_.

Tris arches her back to peer around me and I have to pinch my leg to not groan. She sits back and I feel her eyes on me, but I try my best not to notice. I lean back and try to look behind me, praying that they'll be done soon.

I feel a finger swipe at my jaw and I look down at Tris who places a finger of whipped cream in her mouth—still left from Zeke slapping me with it. _I can't take this anymore!_ I lift Tris up and place her in the spot next to me, so her legs drape over my legs.

She raises her eyebrows at me. "What?" I ask her. My mind searches for a reasonable excuse. "It's hot…"

"I'm freezing," Tris says pulling her legs off me and stuffing her feet under my thigh. She leans her back against the arm of the chair and crosses her arms. With Tris farther away from me—I realize just how cold it is.

I slip off my sweater and hand it to her. Apart of me thinks I'm stupid, or she'll think it means more— _does it mean more?_

"Thanks," Tris says pulling it over her head. When she lifts her arms to pull the sweater over, her shirt goes up with it, exposing her stomach. I swallow, and turn my attention to the people entering the room.

"We're gonna head to bed," Christina says extending a hand to Tris. Tris takes it to get off the sofa and they shout a, "Goodnight!" Over their shoulders. I feel a blush on my face as I see Tris leave the room with my long sweater on.

Tris POV

… _My hands find the switch—It's warm unlike the rest of the room. The lights flicker on… I look to the lightswitch… there's blood on it… I look to my hand—blood, not mine. Shards of glass lay on the floor… The walls are red… so much red…_

My heart races as I awake from my sleep. I turn my head to the clock as realize it's 3 in the morning. I try to fall back asleep, but I'm wide awake now. I look out the window and see the light from the pool.

Christina seems to still be sleeping, so I tiptoe out of the room and out to the backyard. The pools glow looks magical. I've never learned to swim, but I'm sure it would be fun. Instead I settle with putting my feet in the water.

I lean back on my elbows and gaze at the stars. Sometimes I think she's up there. Maybe she's looking down at me at this very moment. Apart of me believes there's a life after death… But maybe, when you die—nothing. All pain, happiness, anger… it all disappears. _Poof._

The water ripples, and I dart my head to the right—startled to see Four. He leans back on his elbows and looks up at the stars—while my gaze is caught on his eyes. The light of the stars reflect off his deep blue eyes.

His eyes meet mine and I fight to find words. Eventually, I find the words, "What are you doing up?" I say. I swirl my feet around, anxious to keep moving. "It's three in the morning."

"What are _you_ doing up?" He counters. There's no way in hell that I'd tell Four about my mother. I know it's silly, but her death seems like a part of me—Like when she died, a part of me died also. I lean back on my elbow, breaking my gaze away from his eyes and back to the stars. "You shouldn't have come here—"

"When are you going to stop underestimating me?" I scoff, embarrassed about my sudden outburst. I try to recover. "I'm not weak."

"I know," he says. I don't hear any doubt, but I know it's in there. Four gets up and dusts off his pants. He walks, and for a second I thought he left, but the I hear the crunch of leaves and look over towards the shed. Four pulls up a lever on the side of it and a slight hum comes from the powerbox.

A purple like flickers and white splatters surround the pool—as well as an outline of a woman's body at the bottom of the pool. The white splatters—blood. _This is a crime scene._

I pick my feet out of the water and stumble back. Four comes next to me, but doesn't sit. "It's a replica." I relax slightly. "She was first on the scene…" Four pauses. "The killer was there first. She fought, but… She wasn't weak." The statement sends shivers down my spine. Four turns the switch off and heads back inside—leaving me staring at the water.

 _You_

 _Welcome home, Beatrice._


	4. The Crow King

**Disclaimer:** _I do not own_ **The Crow King** by **Barry Lyga**

* * *

Four POV

I decide to go for a run, given I can't sleep. That dream still haunts me even though I'm now awake. It just felt so real. Was it a dream or a memory? I try to remember as much as I can as I run.

 _He hands me the knife, but I refuse to take it… "Come on now, boy." My father says… He takes his own hands… places them over mine… I flinch at the feeling of his touch… The scars on my back…_

" _It's just like cutting chicken." He guides my hand over to the woman's body. I don't refuse, because I know what happens if I refuse… He places the bloody knife in the sink…_

I sutter to a stop when I realize I'm at the end of the road. I've probably been out here for an hour. I was just planning on going to the backyard, but Tris was already there. I wanted to ask why she was outside at three in the morning, but she'd probably ask me the same thing, and how would I explain that?

 _Just had a nightmare, or a memory of me cutting a woman to bits._ Why _would I say that's a memory, you say? Haven't you heard? I'm Marcus Eaton's son! Yep, Dear ol' Dad taught me well._

I can already tell how that conversation would end. With Tris running away and never talking to me again. _But, isn't that what I want?_ I mean, I basically told her she's not able to handle this. I know she can handle it, I just think she shouldn't have to. Nobody should have to.

I should have to though. I think this is Amar's way of making sure I don't go off following in Marcus' very large footsteps. Only the footsteps _I_ can see.

I find myself back in the garage in record time. My breath is visible in the winter air. November is almost over. I want to catch this killer before Christmas. The Pedrad's are my only family, so Christmas is kind of a big deal to me. I don't want to sleep, but I can't help it as my eyes close as soon as my head hits the mattress.

My alarm goes off and I jump at the sudden sound. It must be eight O'clock already. As I take my I pull on a shirt and jeans—casual.

I head out into the kitchen where the everyone is awake and eating. Everyone but Tris. Bud stands at the stove flipping pancakes, while Tori brings out a plate and cutlery for me. I go to sit down when something catches in my view.

 _He places the bloody knife in the sink… Knife in the sink._

I see a knife in the sink and change the direction I was walking in. I take the knife and place it into the dishwasher. I feel ridiculous letting a dream get in the way of my life. _But was it a dream, or a memory?_ That question keeps popping up in my head.

Sitting down in the empty chair I take a bite of my pancake. I can't help thinking of Tris, though. _Did I scare her off yesterday?_ Wasn't that the point? _Why do I feel so upset about that?_ Uriah nudges me with his elbow, and I realize that I haven't taken the bite yet. "Whatcha thinking about?" Uriah asks. "You seem hurt and upset." I quickly change my demeanor.

"Where's Tris?" I ask. I finally start eating my pancake to keep my mouth from making anymore sound. Out the corner on my eye I see him smirk. Even if I did like her, it's not like she would like me. Not the real me anyways. I'm broken. And I'm sure she'd think that too if she knew the truth.

"She's on the phone with her brother." Uriah tells me. "Something about her father, I think." Tris' father is sick. Does it have to do with that? _Is it strange to be jealous that her father is dying? In my circumstances, I think not._ I see someone's hand waving in front of my face. "What's going on with you? You keep spacing out."

"It's nothing," I shrug and start eating. Uriah corks an eyebrow at me, silently asking for my answer. He thinks it's my father… I hate that look. That look of pity. I shrug again. _Maybe I am upset about my father._ I haven't seen him in years, and today I will.

Tris comes walking down the stairs in sweats and a t-shirt. She sauntered over to the table and I can see Eric making eyes at her ass as she sits down next to me. God, he doesn't even try to hide it.

"A word?" Amar asks me. He tilts his head to the side, indicating for Eric to follow as well.

"Ambidextrous!" Will exclaims. "It's one of the 0.05% of words in the english dictionary that contains all five vowels."

Christina's eyebrows raise. "Which textbook did you swallow?"

Amar clears his throat. I push out my chair and follow him into the next room, with Eric on my heels. "Ericson is in charge of the investigation unit, however," Amar holds up a finger as if to show how much power he has over us. "Four has to second all your questions."

Eric doesn't like his leadership to be messed with. With him, it's rather all—or nothing. "He can look them over in the plane." I forgot we have to take a plane there. I don't know how I will handle the height.

Amar walks swiftly past me and starts clapping his hands. "Everybody out," he shouts. Eric leaves, making sure to bump my shoulder on the way out.

Today I will see my father. Surely someone will catch on. I just hope it isn't Tris.

Tris POV

The plane we get on looks like the one we took to Canada, but this time, I don't need my passport. Which is good, because I'm pretty sure it looks more like a mugshot.

The woman—Jeanine Matthews—as she introduced herself, showed no other information about her. Although I can figure her out just by the way she walks. She's definitely arrogant, I can tell that for sure.

The last person to get on the plane is Four. The only spot left is next to me. He seems anxious as he takes the window seat. As soon a he looks at the window, he closes the curtain. He must not be a fan of planes.

I try to listen to what Christina is saying, but it's hard to focus when I can see Four's leg bouncing up and down in the corner of my eye. I place my hand on his knee unexpectedly and he stops, but stiffens when he looks at my hand. "Okay?" I ask him.

I see Matthew in the front talking to Eric. They both look back at me at the same time, and continue arguing. I can't hear what they say, but I know they're talking about me.

I feel a pressure on my knee and look down. I guess I didn't notice how anxious I was getting. Four has his finger placed on my knee, that I assume I was bouncing. When I make eye contact with him, he quickly removes his finger from my leg and laces his fingers together in his lap.

Four POV

The plane is worse than I thought. Being stuck between Tris and the window overlooking my most certain death is not doing much to calm my nerves. I want to tell her about my father, but I don't want to lose her. _Not that she's mine._

 _But she is yours,_ Marcus' voice says. _They're just prospects. They don't even know they're not real. But we're real. You're my blood…_

My head shoots up when I realize the voice isn't in my head. I look over to where the voice is coming from and see Christina and Will with a phone playing his interview tape. He refused to talk to anyone other than me.

He used to tell me: _Don't tell the cops more than they ask for. That's how you slip up._ Even as the years past, he still wouldn't talk to anyone. Only 123 victims were confirmed as his kills, though I'm certain there's more.

Tris leans over to hear it better. " _The Crows are watching always…"_ Marcus' voice is bright as always. Crows. I remember my father telling me the story of The Crow King. Tris moves a bit further and I see some black ink on her collarbone.

"I didn't know you had a tattoo," I said without thinking. Tris turns back to me and pulls down the V of her shirt to show three black… "Are they crows?"

She shakes her head. "Ravens. They were my mother's favourite." She leans back in the chair looking more tired than she did earlier. "What about you?" She asked. "What tattoos do you have?"

It's pointless to say I don't have any. The tips of flames tickle my neck. "Symbolic stuff," I shrug. She turns her head to face me. "It's a personal reminder." Thankfully, she doesn't pry. Maybe someday—if I'm brave enough—I'll show it to her. But right now, my secrets are the only thing that keep me sane.

I take out my phone to second Eric's questions.

* * *

Tris' head lays on my shoulder as she sleeps. I pretend not to notice, but every fibre of me is aware of her on me. I decide to sneak a look down at her. Her lips are parted slightly and her lashes curl upwards. She doesn't need makeup. She's naturally beautiful.

Her eyes dart from side to side under their lids and I wonder what she's dreaming about. Or maybe she's like me. Haunted by her past. I bet she doesn't dream about dismembering bodies like me, though. Her dad probably taught her how to ride a bike, while mine was teaching me the stages of decomposition.

The plane jolts and I hear a couple of gasps. Tris' head hits my shoulder as the plane levels out again. I squeeze my eyes shut. When the plane goes smooth again I open my eyes.

I look down at my hand and realize it's intertwined with hers. She seems to notice too because she slips her hand away, but I catch it again. Something about her makes me feel calm, but nervous at the same time.

Tris POV

We took a car to Millhaven. The institute looks like a resort with no windows. Four's been strange ever since we got here, and it makes me wonder if he's familiar with the place. Obviously not enough, as he darts his head around every corner we turn.

I had to leave my phone at the desk and pin a badge to my shirt. The lady at the front gives us an annoyed glace. She sounds bored when she says, "Every camera," she starts. "Hold up that card. It's your visitors key."

She leads us down some hallways and I take notice of how Four's pace slows. Amar drops back with him and says something to him, but I'm too far up to hear all of it. I hear bits like: "If you don't want to," and "Nothing to prove."

The footsteps behind me stop completely and I hear Four's deep voice, "I'm already here." When he speaks that low, his voice seems to rumble. "Don't tell me I don't have to or I have nothing to prove, because I do. I do. Everyday is about proving to the world that I'm not as fucked as I should be."

I turn my head slightly and see Amar nod. "Okay," he conceded. "Alright, just don't get too close to him."

"He can't hurt me," Four said. The group stops in front of a door and they turn to face us. I turn my head before they figure out I was eavesdropping. I'm not one to be secretive, but my curiosity gets the better of me. Caleb would be disappointed.

Al nudges my shoulder. The door to the room is open. I go to walk in, but before I do I hear one last thing from Amar. "I'm worried _you_ might hurt _him_."

* * *

The room is white with water damage in the corners of each wall. A row of folding chairs are presented in front of a—what I assume—is a one way mirror. As I walk closer to the mirror I see a guard standing in the corner.

When I get close enough to touch the glass I see he's not the only one in there. A prisoner sits at a metal desk. His hands and feet are grounded with cuffs to the table's center. They interlace with each other and have tattoos on each finger. Under closer inspection I can read: **LOVE** on one hand, and **FEAR** on the other in big bold caps.

His dark hair with specks of white is combed neatly to the side. He looks fairly in shape, though it's hard to tell under his scrub-like uniform. His eyes are closed, and he has a sadistic smile sprawled on his lips. Marcus Eaton.

Amar walks into the room with Eric and Marcus opens his eyes. His smile widens when he sees Amar. Everyone takes a seat, but I wonder back into the hallway where I'm hoping Four is. I give a quick glance back at the glass and catch nothing of interest.

Four POV

I clench and unclench my fists at my sides. I _have_ to do this. I _need_ to. I pace back and forth trying to calm my breathing. I try breathing through my nose and out my mouth, slumping my head against the cool bricked wall.

"You alright?" I whip my head so hard I almost fall over. Beside me, Tris eases the door to the room closed and stands up against it. She looks smaller in front of that heavy metal door. Her eyes burn into mine with questions I can't answer.

"Yeah—yes," I clear my throat and wipe my sweaty hands on my jeans. "Let's go in, they'll be starting." I pull the door open, allowing Tris to go in first. Procrastinating seems like my best hope right now, but I can't hold out forever.

As soon as I step into the room, my breath hitches in my chest. That's when I saw him. Amar sits across from Marcus. He's more muscular than the last time I saw him. His hair is still buzzed pretty short, and surprisingly he's not balding.

His gaze flips to the observation room. I know all he can see is a reflection of himself, but I feel like he's looking at me through it. Tris sits down, but I stay standing at the back with my arms cross, trying to put as much of a barrier between my father and I.

"I will speak to only to my son," Marcus said. He shifts in his chair in an exaggerated way to show he'll wait. "I'm getting really bored and impatient—and I don't do bored and impatient."

Amar stands. No one should wield that kind of power with just their voice. He opens the door to the observation room and looks around, though his eyes catch on me. "Time to leave."

"What—" Christina starts. "Can't _we_ try talking to him?" Amar opens his mouth, but closes it fast. I give a slight nod.

"Very well than…" Holding open the door, I watch as they all pile in. The room, can't hold all of them, but somehow they seem to fit. Matthew edges his way to the front.

"So, you're a psychopath…" Matthew starts. I place my head in my hands. He's obviously never questioned a criminal before. In fact, who let him come? He's not even a profiler. He places the recorder on the table and presses start.

Marcus replies as if it's just casual conversation, "I prefer _creative_." He must know I'm here, or else he wouldn't be talking.

"Why did you kill those people?" Eric said annoyed.

"I never knew much about people until I took one apart…" Marcus states. "Just to see how it worked."

"I don't understand." Al states.

"I'm under no obligation to make sense to you." Amar slams his palm down on the table, making even then the guard flinch, but Marcus didn't even blink. "When my boy was eight, I gave him a computer," I contemplate stopping this. _I'm too scared._ "One night he took it apart. I asked him why he would destroy the one and only gift I got him. He told me he wanted to know how it worked. He's curious like that. Real smart boy. He showed me how he took apart his computer and I showed him how I took apart my next prospect."

Christina gasps, but Tris seems interested. Christina sounds horrified when she speaks. "You did this to your son?"

"I love my son." His voice shows little emotion. His voice raises and he looks directly at Amar. "You think you can keep my son away from me? He's my son! My blood! He belongs to me. I made him."

"He didn't want to see you," Amar said over my father's shouting. "He's ashamed of you." Marcus sits back in his chair. If you looked at him now, you wouldn't have guessed he just lashed out.

"Who do you belong to?" Tris asks.

"You," Marcus said, pointing his finger as high as the chains will let him. "Blue eyes, in the back." Tris steps forward with little hesitation. It scares me how brave she is. When she's finally at the front, Marcus' eyes widen—for just a moment. He whispers, "Natalie?"

"She's my mother," Tris said softly.

Before Marcus has a chance to answer, Amar's phone goes off. Everyone jumps at the sudden noise in the intense moment. "This is him…" Amar speaks. "Yes, I understand—we're on our way." After pocketing his phone, Amar ushers everyone out of the room.

As everyone leaves, I decide to approach Amar. "I want a turn." I tell him. He raises his eyebrows. "Really—I'm ready." Amar nods and starts walking towards the interrogation room, but I stop him. "I wanna do this alone."

"Four—"

"Who was that?" I asked. "On the phone?"

"Jeanine," He answers. "They found another body. Ness Restaurant. Public place, yet nobody saw anyone or anything suspicious." This isn't your typical serial killer. This guy is smart—organized.

There was this time, where Marcus brought me with him to this church—said this girl dressed too fancy. He slit her throat and hung her to the ceiling—naked. I remember him clapping his hands together like he's dusting off dirt as he looked up at his "Masterpiece." That was in his days as _The Artist._

I head to the door and take one last glance back at Tris who is headed out of the room. I push the door open, keeping my eyes on Tris. "Tobias," his voice startles me, and I see Tris look back at me. She heard. She knows my name.

* * *

I sit down cautiously at the table. My father's eyes seem to scan over my every movement. His smile turns bitter when I make eye contact with him. I've never looked him directly in the eye before. He's not a dog, but the same rules apply. Looking him in the eye is a sign of dominance.

His stare can send shivers down anyone's spine, but for once I don't back down. I sit with my posture straight and my hands at my side. I can't let him get in my head.

"About time you visited your father," Marcus scorned. "I was beginning to think you forgot about me."

"How could I forget such a monster?"

"I can see you're still mad," Marcus proceeded. "You know I am sorry for leaving you. You shouldn't be hanging around that crowd."

"Amar's a good agent," I tell him. "He caught _you_."

"He got lucky," Marcus states. "I got sloppy, and he got lucky. They just happened to have been at the same time. 'Lucky' doesn't make you good. You'll get him someday." He leans in closer, but his voice stays the same volume. I glanced behind him to the guard, who looks bored. "I knew what you were from the beginning. I could smell the blood. You were born to spill blood, boy."

"I'm not a killer."

"Sure you are," he laughs. "You just ain't ever killed someone yet."

* * *

The house is cold when we get back Tori is laying on the couch with her head in a book. "Package showed up," she said without taking her eyes away from her book. "On the counter."

I walk into the kitchen and look at the box. The card says it's for _Beatrice_ in neat cursive letters. There's no name on the package to indicate who it's from. Tris comes down from the stairs wearing a black dress. I toss the box to her and she rips off the paper.

"You order food?" She asked me, showing the Ness Restaurant logo on the to-go container. _Ness Restaurant? Why does that sound familiar?_ I pucker my lips and shake my head.

As soon as Tris opens the container she draws her eyebrows down and places a small bell on the counter. She tosses me a gun, but as it lands in my hands I notice it's just plastic. There seems to be paper in the container because I hear crinkling.

Unwrapping the paper Tris yelps and tosses the box on the floor. Tori and I are up and over to her in less then a second.

I pick up the box and flip the styrofoam box open.

Amar POV

The photographers set up the sheets to keep the public away from the body. We're still searching the area for the severed finger. This body may not even be our killer's. The MO is strangulation, but that seems to be the only add up. Why would our killer want to put _this_ body on display, but not the others?

Jeanine Matthews slips on her gloves and starts inspecting the body. I stand behind, taking mental notes of what I see. The woman is on her back. The blood is settled towards the gravity, making her whole underside a vibrant pink.

"The body was moved here," Jeanine starts. My phone rings making her pause and glare at me. "I expect your priorities to be in finding this killer." I roll my eyes and check the caller ID. It's Four. He never calls me. I actually told Hana, buying him a phone was a waste of money.

I bring the phone up to my ear and walk away from Jeanine's glares. "Everything okay?" I said into the phone. Four starts to explain the gift they got from our killer. When he's done I say, "Can you meet us down here?"

Tris POV

The ride to the restaurant is quiet. I want to tell him about what I heard, but talking to him seems to scare the crap out of me. Obviously he hides his name for a reason, and I don't want to ask around or look into it because I'm trying to respect his privacy. I'm trying.

The car pulls over to a fancy restaurant. I can see Amar on the outside of the curtains talking to a woman with short blond hair and a blue tight dress that shows off a bit of pudge at her midsection.

Getting out of the car, Four places his hand on my back to escort me over to Amar. After giving Amar the cooler with the severed finger in it. He flashes a badge to a man so we can head behind the curtain. At the last second, Four turns around making me slam into his chest.

"I think you should wait out here," he said gently. He stands sturdy on his feet, while I tilt back and forth, feeling the tip of my dress skim my knees. I give him an irritated look. Sure, I've never seen a dead body, but I will have to eventually.

Sliding past him, I push the sheets aside and suck in a breath. I avoid looking at the woman's body, instead, I look at the people walking around. There are photographers who are snapping different angles of the woman's body and placing down numbers.

A bright flash comes from behind me and I see a man pull back his camera. I still, suddenly very aware that I am wearing a dress. I spin around and see the man showing another guy the photo.

I snatch the camera out of his hands. "Hey!" He shouts. I turn around so he can't reach it, but Four is already between the man and I. "Come on, Four! If you want a peek you can just ask." I delete the photo and shove it back into the man's chest. "My name's Peter. You are…?"

I scoff and head back to the car, where I rest my head in my hands. "You okay?" Four seems to be very stealthy and quiet. "Those guys are assholes. It's fine, you deleted the picture."

"It's not fine," I said with no emotion. My voice starts to pick up out of anger. "This happens to girls all the time. It happened to Marcus Eaton's victims." I think about my mother. "And why, because they were _attractive_? Woman's existences should not be based off of how desirable you find them." I look at him, but he's already staring at me. Exhaling, I say: "Let's just go."

* * *

(Later that night)

Christina's snoring makes it easier to cry. I remember when I used to cry and my mother would tell me a story. She'd tell me a story where the princess saved herself. "It's okay to be selfish sometimes," she'd said. It was so unlike my mother. I've never heard her insist anything other than selflessness.

My tears come faster and Christina's snoring fades. I don't want to wake her up so I slip out of bed and head down the stairs into the living room. I lay my head on the shoulder of the couch.

"You okay?" I jump at Four's voice. I turn my head and see him at the kitchen counter eating a sandwich. It seems almost comical that he's up once again at the same time as me.

"Yeah," I whisper. "Sorry, I didn't see you there."

He places his plate in the sink and walk over to the couch. I scooch over for him to join me, and his thigh grazes mine when he sits, and sends shivers through my spine. "What's wrong?" What isn't wrong?

"My dad moved into stage four liver cancer…" He stays quiet for a moment and I think he may not have heard me. But then he wraps his arm around me. "They're selling the mechanics shop."

"It'll be okay," his voice is so reassuring I almost believe him— _almost_.

"How do you know?"

"I don't," he said. "It's just what people say." I chuckle at his comment. Four turns to me so his face is inches away from mine. "Bad things happen to good people. I don't know why, but they do."

I want to ask him why he thinks I'm a good person. I know he's a profiler, but I know myself better than he knows me. Instead I ask: "Can you tell me a story?"

"Yeah, sure." I shift so my head his on his lap and he—as if out of instinct—runs his fingers through my hair. "It started with the Crow King, who was surveying all he ruled. And he saw it was good. There was peace where there was supposed to be peace, and war where there was supposed to be war _._ " Suddenly It becomes familiar. And I realize it's Marcus' voice on the plane.

… _Because the crow is a wise bird, the crow knows that someone's always killin' someone else somewhere. That's the way of the world. That's the natural order of things. And the Crow King was the wisest of all of the wise birds, so there wasn't no way how he was gonna dispute the natural order of things. And so the world turned and the crows ate carrion and the young squirrels still a-sleepin' in their nests and the vegetables growin' in the fields._

 _Now one day, into this perfection, into this natural world, there came a red robin. Red like a sunset. A more beautiful bird you could not imagine, not with all the thinking in all the world. And the robin decided that it wanted to be like a crow. More than that, it wanted to be the Crow King._

 _And so the robin went off and the robin killed. It killed a great many birds. It slaughtered, bringing war where there had been peace._

 _And the Crow King said, "No, this is not for you. This is only for me." And he hunted down the robin, and when he found him, he held down the robin and pierced its breast with his beak and drank from it, draining it until its red feathers turned white._

 _And that, Tobias, was the first dove. And this is why the dove is a bird of peace—because it knows better than to try to be otherwise._

"That's… that's a _horrible_ story!" I said. I feel him laugh a little bit. How does he know this story? And why is he telling me _this_ one? I feel the realization at the back of my head trying to push its way forward, but I won't let it.

Instead, I let myself fall asleep, with my head on his lap.

 _You_

 _Stupid! Stupid! Stupid! Someone could have seen you!_

Beatrice got the gift you gave her. Four will surely crack the code, or maybe that other one… Will? It doesn't matter. Because it's all for Beatrice.

 _She can join you, or she can go against you. Killing her would be fun, but you love her. She's family._


	5. Bad Guys 101

**I didn't read over this so... my apologies haha. Enjoy :)**

 **Tris POV**

Yawning, I feel a buzzing on my stomach. It only takes me a second to realize that I'm on the couch… with Four. I look down at my stomach where I feel the buzzing and realize it's coming from Four's watch.

Sitting up, I make out a voice coming from the kitchen. It's Bud and Tori. When Tori speaks she seems stressed. "We can't tell her," she said. "Tris needs to be focused right now."

I get up cautiously, careful not to wake Four. Tiptoeing to the kitchen door, I eavesdrop. "She has the right to know," Bud says. I get up and walk over to the doorway. At that moment the floor creaks. Tori and Bud's head's spin towards the door.

"What about me?" I ask, realizing there's no way out of them seeing me. Tori looks towards Bud.

"We found this in the package left by the unsub," Bud says. He walks around the kitchen to give me a note that reads: **To Beatrice.**

"We'll figure this out later," Tori tells me. "Best keep this information to yourself. You got to stay focused today. Jeanine will be here soon."

* * *

Tori and Bud left to go get groceries, leaving me alone in the kitchen. I pour some cheerios and sit down at the table.

 _What could the killer want with me?_

"I don't know what that cereal did to you, but I'm sure it's very sorry." I look up and notice Matthew. "You've been stirring it for about five minutes."

I flick a cheerio at him and he plops it into his mouth. Christina walks down the stairs totally awake, but all I can notice is how little she's wearing. She wears a silk nightgown that leaves very little to imagination.

I avert my eyes as she opens the fridge. "You ready for How to get into the Skulls of Bad Guys 101?"

"At least her training is better than sitting around watching movies in foreign languages, without subtitles," Matthew counters.

"I've been in the program for three years," Christina sighs. "All I've learned is that psychopaths are really good liars, and FBI agents are bad ones."

"How many psychopaths have you met?" I ask.

"Only Marcus," she frowns. The corners of Matthew's mouth perks up. "Hey, It's not like Amar and Jeanine are gonna let us out in the field. They send us to a safe little house in a nice little neighbourhood, and expect us to do everything from here."

"They usually just give us cold cases," Matthew says in more diplomatic terms. "They see if we can solve the cases. To see if we're as good as Amar says we are."

Christina scoffs, "They don't want to just train us, or use us. They want to _be_ us."

"Absolutely," a new voice concurred. "Deep down, in my heart, all want is to be Christina." Jeanine Matthews strolled into the kitchen and went straight to the fridge. I guess she can be nice when she wants to be. "There are two files on the table for you guys to work on while I get Tris caught up to speed."

In a matter of seconds, my fellow Naturals had scattered.

"Hope Amar isn't going to hard on you," Jeanine says. She seems like a whole new person than the one I profiled before. "Hijazi lacks a certain amount of... _finesse_. Guy never met a square peg he didn't want to pound into a round hole."

The description of Amar was what I thought exactly. She was speaking my language, but I didn't have time to relish that fact.

Because Four was standing in the doorway. After last night, I try my best not to make eye contact. "Right on time."

"On time for what?" I asked.

Four answered on Jeanine's behalf, only he wasn't smiling like the agent in front of me. "For your first lesson."

* * *

Four drove us in silence to the mall parking lot. He goes friendly, than rude, and now he seems to be ignoring me again.

His shoulders tense when he gets cut off and he's a careful driver. We make it all the way there without him looking at me.

I'm used to fading into the background, but coming from him it felt like an insult. Like I wasn't worth profiling, like he doesn't have the slightest interest in figuring me out. Even after last night, which fills me with embarrassment now.

"I'm sure this isn't what you were expecting, but I wanted you to profile more on the normal side of things before we get into the abnormal spectrum," Jeanine said.

Four flicks his eyes sideways.

Jeanine called him on it. "Something you'd like to add?"

"It's just been a long time," he said, "since someone asked me to think about normal." I start to get the feeling that she's the reason why he is acting so strange.

Five minutes later we have a table in the food court. "The woman in the purple fleece," Jeanine says. "What can you tell me about her, Tris?"

I followed her gaze to the woman in question. Mid-twenties. She was wearing running shoes and jeans in addition to the fleece. Either she was sporty and she'd just thrown on jeans because she was coming to the mall, or she wasn't, but wanted people to think she was. I said as much out loud.

"What _else_ can you tell me?" Jeannine asked. My gut told me she didn't want details, she wanted the big picture.

I remember doing this with my mom. While other kids were learning their ABC's, I was learning a different alphabet. The BPE's my mother would call them. _Behavior. Personality. Environment._

The woman had chosen a seat near the edge of the food court, even though there were plenty of tables available closer to the restaurant where she'd purchased her meal. There were several people sitting near her, but she stayed focused on her food.

"She's a student," I said finally. "Graduate school of some kind—my money's on med school. She's not married, but has a serious boyfriend. She comes from an upper-middle-class family. She's a runner, but not a health nut. She most likely gets up early, likes doing things other people find painful, and if she has any sibling, they're either younger than she is or all boys."

I waited for either of them to reply, but they didn't. "What makes you think she's a student?" Jeanine finally asks.

I locked eyes with Four and immediately knew that he saw it too. "It's nine in the morning and she's not at work." I decide to keep going. "It's too early for a lunch break, and she's not dressed in work clothes."

Jeanine raised an eyebrow. "Maybe she works from home. Or maybe she's between jobs. Maybe she teaches elementary school and she's on break."

The objections were valid; yet so wrong. I couldn't explain it.

To my shock, Four was the one who came to my rescue. "She's not even looking at them."

"Pardon?"

"The other people in her age range." Four nodded toward a couple of young moms with children, plus store employees lined up for coffee. "She's not looking at them. They aren't her peers. She doesn't even realize they're the same age. She pays more attention to college students than adults."

And that was the feeling I couldn't put into words. It was like he could see inside my head at all the thoughts bouncing around and make sense of it. But he didn't need to get inside my head, because he was already thinking the exact same thing.

"Why med school?" Four asks me unexpectedly.

I glanced back at the girl. "Because she's a runner."

Four smiled, ever so slightly. "You mean she's a masochist." The girl rose from her seat. "What makes you think she has a boyfriend?"

I couldn't say the true reason, which was the fact that she hadn't once glanced over at Four. If she'd been single, she would have looked.

* * *

We get back to the house and I take a seat next to Al, who looks at crime scene photos on the couch. Something about him seems awkward. Maybe it's the way he tenses when I'm around.

"What you looking at?" I ask. I take one of the photos and take a closer look. The victims all have an E carved into their skin with rather a knife or burn. "Eaton's victims?"

"To him, murder wasn't about lust or violence," he frowns, "to him, it was about possession."

"Is that why he marks them?" I ask. "Claiming them as his?"

He nods, clears his throat and asks, "Do you wanna go to the bar with me tonight?"

I don't know what to say. I don't like him in that way, but I don't want to hurt his feelings. "Um, sure…" I drag. "I'll ask the others."

 **Four POV**

A few hours later, we're at a fancy bar with _Bienvenue_ written on the front. We all get out of the cramped SUV and walk into the odor of bodies and alcohol.

I sit down at the bar and get a drink for myself. Our group scatters out and leaves me alone where I am approached by a woman with tan skin and dark hair. She tilts her head in a flirtatious way while sitting on the stool beside me. "Hey, I'm Nita."

I nod and take a sip of beer. I'm not interested in getting to know woman. "Hi." I respond dull.

"You're Tobias, right?" I focus on her to see if I know her, but I don't.

"Who are you?" I ask in a darker tone.

"I'm a just a reporter," Nita shrugs. She takes out a recorder and points it in my direction. "So, on the record, did you know what your father was doing?"

I shove the recorder out of my face and stand. "Go," I tell her. She looks at me in confusion. "I suggest you leave."

Nita rolls her eyes and walks away. I turn back to my drink and go to take a sip, when I am tapped on the shoulder. I turn around angry, expecting Nita, but instead I see Tris dancing and pulling me over to join her, clearly intoxicated already.

"Come dance!" She shouts over the mass of bodies. She pulls on my arm and I laugh as I gulp down the rest of my drink. I don't drink much and I can tell neither does Tris.

The music blares in my ears and the crowd pushes Tris and I together and apart. I offer to go get us drinks and when I turn back, she's gone.

I take a seat at the stool to get our drinks and finish two, before heading out to find her with beer in my hands.

I bump into people and hold the drinks above my head to ensure they don't spill. I look down to make sure I don't step on anyone's toes when I see how sweaty I am. I guess jumping around like an idiot can be a good workout.

"Hey!" Zeke shouts in my ear. I turn to see him glistening with sweat as he prances around me.

"You seen Tris?" I ask. He raises his eyebrows, indicating something more than friendship between Tris and I. I shake it off and he points me to where he saw her last.

I walk in that direction until I see who she's dancing with. Al. Only it doesn't seem like she wants to dance with her. I stop. His hand goes down her side and lands on her ass.

She turns swiftly and pushes him away, but he grabs her wrists. For some reason, I can move. She stumbles and laughs it off. Dancing again, she turns away from Al.

As the music slows down she sways her hips. It's like Al never did anything, until he presses his groin into her back. She seem not to notice, considering how many people are here and how many beers she's had.

Her hand holds her beer and I notice Al's sneaking behind hers with a pill in hand. It drops, but I can't move.

His hand lays on her hip and works its way to the front of her jeans. And when his hand slips under her belt, that's when I suddenly had the capability to move.

The beer hits the floor, as I push my way through every person, seeing them stumble back in my peripheral vision.

Tris spins around and stumbles back after feeling Al's presents. She turns to face me and I don't make eye contacts with her as I grab Al's collar and shove him against the bar wall.

"What's your problem?!" Al cringes. He looks towards Tris than back at me. "I see. You're jealous that Tris likes me and not you."

"I'm _mad_ that you tried to drug and sexualy assalt her!" I growl into his face. He tries to push me, but I don't budge. "Now, you're going to apologize to her."

He scoffs and suddenly his fist hits my face. I stumble back into the drunks that are now shouting to fight. I swing back and straddle him to the floor. He tries to movie but I have him pinned.

 **Flashback:**

"I knew what you were from the beginning. I could smell the blood. You were born to spill blood, boy."

"I'm not a killer."

"Sure you are," he laughs. "You just ain't ever killed someone yet."

 **End of Flashback.**

I feel hands on my shoulder trying to rip me off and I let them. I sit up to see Tris with tears in her eyes. And suddenly I'm being pinned to the wall by a cop and cuffs getting put around my wrists as the crowd around us runs.

I get shoved by the cop, when Tris punches the cop in the jaw. My mind is blank. I can't feel. I'm Marcus.

* * *

"Well this is a nice change of scenery." Uriah says as he enters the jail cell with Tris following in pursuit.

"It's a jail cell…" Tris scoffs. "Are you sober?"

"I'm moderately functionable," Uriah brups.

I stay seated on the tile floor, with my head drooped and my hair hanging over my face. I refuse to look at Tris even though she sits right next to me. Uriah walking over to talk to some random people.

"I—" Tris starts. She shakes her head and looks up at the roof. I sniff a little and look towards her. She looks back at me then to the floor. "I'm sorry."

She sniffs and rubs at her eyes. I don't know why she's sorry and I don't ask.

Laying her head on my shoulder, her tears soak my shirt. "I made you mad, and I know that's a sensitive area for you since…" I raise my head to the ceiling and focus on the water damage. I know what comes next. "Your father."

She knows. The one thing I tried to keep from her, I couldn't. I'm so stupid. Stupid! I slide my hand back over to my side and get up.

She won't want an Eaton sitting next to her. Walking over to the bars, I rest my hands on them and notice the blood and muscle visible to my eye.

"Oh, shit!" One of the cops grunt as they get out of their chair and walk over to me. "Someone escort this guy to the hospital!"

I hear Tris run up beside me and she pulls my hand off the bars and rests it in her hands. "Four…" she trails.

I pull my hand away from her and follow the cops instructions as he leads me out of the cell and into the cop car.

 **Tris POV**

We sat there for hours until Amar came to bail us out by yelling at all the people just trying to do their jobs. It was an embarrassing experience overall, so I felt it necessary to apologize to the cops on the way out.

I now sit on the couch back at the house waiting for Amar to come back with Four, or Tobias…

The front door opens and immediately I hear Amar's voice. "Seriously? A bar fight! You talk about keeping a low profile, and then you do that!" Four seems not to hear him as he heads to the garage in a hoodie. When he reaches for the knob I notice his hands are wrapped in bandages.

Amar goes to follow him into his room but Four slams it, rattling the house, before Amar could enter. Amar slams his fist on the door and sighs. He plops down on the chair across from me and undoes his tie.

Christina comes into the living room with her phone to her ear in distress. She sits next to me and grunts, hanging up the phone. "Al isn't home and he hasn't picked up his phone in the hundred times I've called him."

"He's probably just got a hurt ego," Uriah says jumping over the couch and landing next to me. "You know us men." Uriah looks up at Amar and raises his eyebrows. "Four's not okay?"

I forgot that Uriah is an emotion reader. "He's getting the help he needs," Amar responds. "Even though he doesn't want it."

"Was that why he was so mad?" Christina asks.

"With Four," Amar grunts as he gets up out of the chair, "you never know. Where's Albert?"

Everyone shrugs and looks around to the other wondering faces. "Haven't seen him since the fight," Uriah shrugs. "He probably ran off."

Uriah's smirk is quickly gone when Amar slams his fist on the side table. "You are a team!" He shouts at us. "You're going to go back and find him."

"It's three in the morning…" Christina says rubbing her eyes. "If he shows up—he shows up."

Amar grabs everyone's coats from the hangers and throws them onto Christina. "Everyone, now!" He holds open the door with keys still in hand, hesitating beside the garage door where I can hear the punching bag being hit.

* * *

We make it to the bar again and the lights aren't as bright and the music isn't blasting as the 24hr bar winds down. We walk in and all that remains are a few older men clearly wasted and having a good time.

The bar is big so we spread out. I check rooms and ask around, though none of the men seem sober enough to answer. As I reach the back exit I see something strange. I can't put my thumb on it, but something about the door draws my attention to it.

I go closer to it and look around comparing the difference to the other doors. The knob on this one is higher than the rest. It's a small detail, but it's like it calls out to me.

I open the door and immediately notice the red stains in the snow under the shelter of the roof. There's no footprints to tell where it leads. The snow must have covered it all.

I walk out into the forest behind the bar, still feeling the daize from the alcohol. I lean on a tree feeling the booze coming up. Gross. I don't drink usually, but I thought it might be fun… I was very wrong.

Removing my hand from the tree I feel syrup pull away from my hand. Great. I pull out my phone as a flashlight. As I wipe my other hand on my shirt I realize it's red… I look back at the tree. There's a handprint. It's big. Al's.

I stumble back and trip over a root, losing my phone. Shit. I get up and see a shed. The blood trail is back. But it doesn't seem right. I know that I'm not going to find Al—safe and sound in a shed behind the bar.

Yet I find my hand on the shed door anyway. I open the door.

My hands find the switch. It's warm unlike the rest of the room.

The lights flicker on and I fall back onto the floor. I look to the lightswitch, there's blood on it. I look too my hand—blood, not mine. Shards of glass lay on the floor. The walls are red… so much red.

I feel someone pulling on me, but I can't peel my eyes away from the scene. "Mommy!" I scream, hoping she'll say it's okay and she's fine—that she loves me.

I blink my eyes. It's all a blur now, someone's in front of me. I blink my eyes again and tears roll down my cheeks.

"Beatrice!" the ringing in my ears grows dull as Amar's voice fades in. Amar's hands rest on my shoulders and shake me aggressively.

I try to respond, to tell him what's wrong. The ever so obvious link between the murderer and myself. But the words don't come out.

Amar picks me up and carries me over to the front of the bar. I shiver and he wraps his coat around my shoulders.

I don't know how much time passes by the time I see the police and ambulances arrive. They but me in the back of the ambulance and put an oxygen mask on me.

I scream and punch at the paramedics. Can't they see I just need space? I can't stop screaming. Blood. Mom's—no, Al's.

The male paramedic tries to hold me down. "Get off!" I scream. "Get off! Get off! Get off…" My screams turn into a slur as I feel a pinch in my bicep. Sedative.

* * *

 **I've been really inactive due to personal issues which I shouldn't really go into details about. Anyways, I'm going to try to post at least once a month. (I'll try my best)**

 **Please follow, favourite, and give your support in the comments to keep me motivated :) - DauntlessBoy**


	6. Al

**I know I always say I don't like to get into feelings, but I think I owe an explanation for my sudden ghosting. My best friends killed himself back in February and I haven't been in the mood to write. Anyway, I hope you all are satisfied with this chapter.**

* * *

Tris POV

A shiver shoots up my spine as the cold tingles my neck. I hear the harsh whispers of Tori and Bud. I fight to open my eyes from the grogginess.

I peek an eye open and I see Tori stop and look over at me. "Hey, sweetie." She says in a too friendly voice. "We brought you hot chocolate."

She puts her hand out and I find the strength to sit myself up and grab it from her hand. I look out the window of the hospital room and see Amar talking with one of the male nurses.

A cough startles me. I look to my left and notice Four asleep in a chair with Amar's jacket atop him. He adjusts himself in the chair, still asleep.

"Don't wake him," Amar says peeking his head in the room. "He just fell asleep."

"Where—" I clear my throat, just now realizing how dry it is and take a sip from my hot chocolate. "Where are the others?"

"They're in the cafe getting breakfast." Bud replies. I swing my legs over the side of the bed and notice I'm in a hospital gown. I look at my arm and undo the IV. "You should rest."

"I'm fine," I snap back. "I'm going to find out who's doing this."

I wrap the blanket and wrap it around me. I take my clothes off the nightstand and bring it into the washroom to get changed. My grogginess has worn off by now and I'll I want is to catch this killer.

I hear them all trying to convince me to stay and rest, but rest will only make me stressed. As I open the door out of the washroom I look up to see Four with his arm on the door frame. I duck under and try to walk out but he grabs my arm.

"Let go of me," I demand.

"Tris, you've got to rest." Four pleeds. "You can't do anything if you're too tired to think."

"You don't get it, Four!" I shout as I rip my arm away from his grip. "Only the murderer could recreate my mother's murder in that much detail."

"Tris—"

"Every second I spend in here, that murderer—that psychopath spends out there, planning their next kill!"

Four looks at me in shock. You can see the hours of sleep he needs under his eyes. "What's your plan?" He throws his arms up. "What? You're gonna go out on your own, find some evidence? What happens when you find them? You're gonna ask them to stop politely and hope they stop? Or tackle them to the ground and hope they don't do the same thing that they've been doing to the other 12 girls that we've found!"

I recoil. "Well you're not doing anything!" I shout in his face. "None of you are! It's been months since the killer started their spree and we have nothing on them." I take a breath. "I know this is crazy, but I think the killer left that scene as a message."

"You can't do this on your own," Four says sincerely. He positions his body so the others can't see me. He reaches his hand out and wraps it around mine, rubbing his thumb over my knuckles. "Please."

I look into his eyes and she stares thoughtfully back. "Okay."

* * *

We all sit at the table and I watch them play cards, trying to all relax over what happened last night, except for Four who hauls up in his room. They all pause and look over my shoulder. "I'm assuming from the lack of work that you're all aware you've been removed from all active cases?" Jeanine voice comes from behind me. I can tell by the tone that she's back to her first personality.

"You can't take us from the case," Christina says. "We gotta find who killed Al."

"Our judgement is impaired," Will says putting a card on the deck. "We can't do our job if we're grieving Al."

"Actually," Jeanine says nonchalantly. "The blood found at the scene wasn't Al's."

Matthew spits out his water. "What?"

Uriah pumps his fist, "You know, now that I think about it, we haven't seen Eric in awhile."

Zeke laughs, but Amar gives him a death stare. "Even though that's not Al," Amar tells us. "Al is still missing and that blood was somebodies."

"Sorry," they mumble under their breath.

"Tris? Four? Can I speak with you?" Amar waves us over to the living room out of sight. He leans against the back of the couch and crossed his arms over his chest. A defensive position. "I know you're both upset about being removed from the investigation, but it's for the best."

"The best?" I scoff. Amar nods his head in apology and walks away. "Can you believe him?" Four tilts his head slightly, but even that small movement has a meaning. "You're on his side?"

"There are no sides," Four breathes. "Amar is just looking out for us."

"It's like he doesn't even want to catch the killer." I sit down on the couch and rest my head in my hands. "I know this will sound crazy, but I think—no, I know that the killer is connected to my mother's death."

Four crouches down in front of me and places his hands on my shoulders. "I think you should get some rest."

"You don't believe me?" I scoff. I push his hands off my shoulders and stand up.

"Wait—Tris," I turn back to Four and he gives me a look of sympathy for once. "You said that the murder was recreated, right?" I nod. "The library has records of unsolved cases. Maybe if they have pictures of your mother's murder we can compare them to the ones taken yesterday."

Finally something useful! I hug Four. At first he seems shocked, but he eases into it and hugs me back. I hear the door open but I don't think much of it when I pull back and look him in the eyes. "Thank you," I say.

He looks down at my lips and back to my eyes, but before he does anything Four gets shoved off his feet onto the floor by a skinny blond with a buzz cut.

"Hey, loser!" She shouts laughing. "Lose your balance?" She reaches out an arm to help him up and he takes it to help himself up.

"I'm gonna get back at you," Four smirks. The girl smiles back and they both lean in for a hug, which ends with a wrestling match between the two of them.

I look to the doorway where Uriah clearly reads my expression of jealousy. Infact, I'm praying it's not dripping from my ears.

I go down to the library, not feeling like my presence really affects what goes on down there.

Looking through the books, I scan the sections, that is until I see something I shouldn't… Eaton Case. I shouldn't, but I want to. Maybe just a peak. No—

I find my mother's case, though I don't have the guts to open it. Instead, I tuck it under my shoulder and make my way up to my room.

Uriah POV

I see Tris is upset so I follow her upstairs to her room. She flops on the bed and I rest my forearm on the doorframe, attempting to look cool.

"Hey." I smile. She looks up and tosses a book under her bed. "What's that?"

"What are you doing here?" She asks flustered.

I walk over to her bed and sit down next to her. "Remember that I can read emotions?" I scratch my chin. "I saw the way you looked at Lynn. You're jealous."

"I am not." Tris scoffs. She looks away.

"They're more like siblings, I just thought you'd want to know." I go to get up but change my mind. "I see the way you look at Four. It's like when you look at eachother you two become the only ones in the room."

"Uriah—"

"You think you'd ever be able to look at me that way?" Her eyes go wide and I realize I've made her uncomfortable. "Or anyone could ever look at me that way?"

"I see girls look at you all the time," Tris laughs. "I doubt you'll have trouble finding someone—"

I kiss her. I don't remember making that decision, but I do it.

Only, she pushes me back. "—Uriah."

"I'm sorry, I just thought—" I stand up in a panic. "I'll leave… " and she doesn't stop me.

Tris POV

I fell asleep and woke up to a dripping on my forehead. Look up and see the girl—Lynn with a straw over my head and a coke bottle.

I swat her away and she giggles to herself. "So you're the girl."

"What girl?" I question though a small part of me hopes that Four talked about me.

"The one tied up with this murder… duh." She swings herself over my bed and onto the window, crossing her legs. "And the one tied up with Four apparently too."

My breath hitches in my throat. "I am not." I retort, but this only makes her smile. "We're not even close, I didn't even know he had a girlfriend till you came in."

"Girlfriend?" Lynn laughs, holding onto her stomach. "Four is more like a brother to me."

A weight I didn't know was there is lifted off my shoulders. "So than, who are you?"

Just then Four walks into my room and kicks Lynn out. "Sorry about her." He takes a seat across from me on Christina's bed. "She's visiting with her sister Shauna; Zeke's girlfriend."

A smile plays across his lips and disappears just as fast as I pull the book out from under my bed. "I don't think I can look."

He nods in understanding, taking the book from my hands and opening it up to the first page. "She looks just like you." He looks up and I look down to the floor. He flips the page and his eyes scrunch. "You were right."

I don't know if I wanted it to be true or not. But suddenly I realized the the killer left that message for me. Me.

"You were right about me," I tell him. I think back to the first night here. "I'm weak, I can't handle this."

"Tris." He closes the book and comes to sit next to me. I don't know what I expect but he grabs my hand in a way that makes me feel comforted. "You were right… do you think any of us would have been able to figure this out without you?"

I suppose not. "I just…" I take in a gulp of air, feeling like a bolder is crushing me. "How do you do it?"

"I don't know," he tells me honestly. "I have to remind myself that these people are _people_ and not just prospects."

"What's with Lynn?" I sniff and rub my eyes. I'm stronger than this. "Like who is she?"

"Lynn… I met her my first year at the BAU." He rubs the back of his neck. "She was my first real friend—her and Shauna. Amat took them in for awhile. Lynn was always running away and well… she told me why, but it's not my place to tell her story."

* * *

Night time comes round and still no sign of Al. We decided to go out as a search team to look for him, along with other volunteers from around the area.

We get to the bar's forest and I look at the shed which is taped off.

"We split into groups of two," Amar goes on. "We meet back here in half an hour, _with_ your partner."

Christina looks at me and I already know we're partners. That is until Lynn yanks me back and links her arm with mine. "Looks like we're partners!"

I don't really know if I like Lynn. I decide to give her a chance though, so we walk into the woods with our flashlights.

"Just so you know," Lynn goes on stepping over a log whilst whipping a branch back in my face. "I don't like you."

Yeah, nevermind, I don't like her.

"Four likes you." I tell her that I like him too. "But, he really likes you. Four doesn't like many people. People leave him and people disappoint him. So if you're one of those people…" She turns around to face me. "Than I will hurt you."

I tilt my head. "He said you were his first friend back when you both joined the BAU."

" _Joined_." She says like it's foreign to her. "We didn't join, we were born into it."

"What you mean?"

"I was born into a cult. My mom helped Shauna and I escape. I don't remember much cause I was always drugged but I remember the look on Shauna's face when they killed our mother." She takes a breather. "Well, our mom contacted the police and that's why she was killed. That's when Amar found us and took us in. He made us do work for him to distract us. He tried the best he could, but he didn't want Shauna, Henry or I to be separated in foster care."

"Henry?"

"My little brother," she informs me. "He's back home with our foster parents. But anyway, it was just us until Four showed up. He didn't talk but one day I decided to run away and Four found this out. He told me he was coming too. We were starving on the streets for about three days before Amar found us again. The thing is though… Four never looked at me like the other guys look at me. He looked at me like an actual person instead of an object." She smiles and I find myself smiling too. "I figured, he didn't want to run away, he just wanted to make sure I was safe."

"So what happened after—" I trip and my flashlight falls out of my hands and into the puddle I lay in. Lynn starts to laugh but starts screaming when she points her light at me. "What?"

I figure she's pranking me but when I see the genuine fear in her eyes I look down.

 _Blood, so much blood._

Lynn stops screaming and backs away from me where I lay with blood over my front side and Al face down in the dirt. I scream and crawl away. He's dead. He's really dead.

"Wait—" Lynn says coming closer. "Did you see that?" She points to his hand. His finger twitches.

"Shit—Al." I check his pulse. His whole left side of his face is burnt off and his fingers don't have nail. He was torchered. "We need an ambulance!"

Four POV

We wait at the hospital, them already sick of us from the other day when Tris was in.

"Amar, you're bringing us too much business." A nurse says to Amar. I intervene giving the nurse a look to leave.

"Have you seen Tris' mother's murder scene?" I ask him. I take the picture I stole from the book when Tris wasn't looking as well as a picture from the shed. "It's the same."

I hold them out in front of them and Amar takes his time unfolding his glasses and placing them on the bridge of his nose. "Hmm."

"That's it?" He pockets the pictures. "Unless, you already knew."

"Look, I know you like to be apart of the investigation, but this is way out of the Natural's league." For once I see Amar look worried. Does he actually think we might not catch this killer? "Okay, until I get the approval from Max, you guys aren't allowed to be involved."

"But—"

"No 'but's."

I roll my eyes, expressing my frustration. Tris, Uriah, Christina and Will wait in the room while Eric, Matthew, Shauna, Lynn and Zeke are off doing their own thing.

Uriah walks out of the room and leans against the front desk beside me. "I know you insist you don't like her, but I think you do."

"I do," I say to my suprise. I look at her through the doorway where she sits holding Christina's hand. "I guess it's just hard for me to admit out loud." I chuckle a little.

"I kissed her," Uriah blurts. I don't react. I don't know how to react. He's my friend, but a friend wouldn't do that. "I figured that if you didn't like her that maybe I'd have a chance, but I was wrong and I'm really sorry Four—"

"I'll see you back at the house."

Tris POV

Back at the house we sit by the T.V silently. I can't help but feel the tension between Uriah and Four but I can see everyone is trying to avoid it.

"You think the killer is a Ted Bundy type?" Christina suddenly asks. I know she's asking is Al was assaulted.

"Wouldn't it be Daulmer?" Will interjects.

"We don't even know if the killer is a guy." I remember what Four said back home. I look to him to see if he would get it but he only looks away from me.

"Not a lot of girl serial killers," Uriah shrugs. "Let's be realistic."

"Velma Barfield, Clementine Barnabet, Bloody Benders, Belle Gunness, Debra Denise Brown." Four says scoffing. "Idiot." He says under his breath.

"You're the idiot." Uriah says.

Will gets up and walks over the the basement door. It takes him a second to pull the iron door open and he turns to us. "Who wants to light fireworks in the basement?"

Everyone gets up and away from the stare off between Uriah and Four and heads to the basement. I've only ever been down here once but Will explains how it's soundproof and other mechanics of the house.

* * *

I wake up the next day in a bad mood. I feel like I'm missing something and it's making me stressed that I can't figure it out. Everyone concludes that they will go visit Al in the hospital. He's not awake yet, but even seeing him makes me sick. I don't want him dead, but I just wish he wasn't here so I decide to stay home.

I come down to the kitchen where Uriah and Four still give each other the death stare. "Everyone in the van, except you two." Amar points to Four and Uriah. "I don't know what's going on between you two, but you'll figure it out before you represent the BAU out in public."

Slipping into the basement I read up on serial killers from the library. I stumble across Belle Gunness; someone Four mentioned. It's not till I say it out loud that I understand the killer's gift.

Belle-Gun-Ness

Bell-Gun-Ness

A Bell. A toy gun. Ness Restaurant.

The killer is a girl.

 _You_

 _You know she's onto you. You've left the trail. Now that the boy is in the hospital, she'll be all alone._

 **Sorry for any spelling mistakes. Please leave a review and I'll try to be more active from now on since it's almost summer.**


	7. Killer

So I was thinking of maybe putting my other social media out there so you guys can contact me and if any of you are curious as to what I look like. I don't know many guys on this app so I'm worried about opening myself up to bullies. Anyway tell me what you think.

Tris POV

The killer is a girl. I go to the garage where Four is doing sit ups on the floor. He pauses briefly to look at me but goes back to his sit ups. I don't think much of it as I sit on his bed, which is more comfortable than mine and smells like metal and boy.

"I think the killer is a girl," I say. He doesn't respond. "The killer left a bell, a toy gun, and a box from Ness Restaurant… Belle Gunness! So that must mean the killer is a girl."

He finally acknowledges me. "Could also mean she's doing it for insurance." He stops to look at me. "It doesn't mean anything. You're not on the case anymore so drop it."

Four pushes himself up off the floor and wiped his sweat off his forehead with his tank top, showing off his abs, which cause me to dart my eyes back up at his face. He goes to leave the garage, but I block his way. "You remember I'm a profiler, right?" He rolls his eyes and reaches for the doorknob. I stand my ground. You know I'm right, you said 'she' when you talked about the killer."

"What I think clearly doesn't matter." He lightly pushes me to the side so he can open the door. I follow him out a little pissed at his reaction. I don't know what the protocol for this kind of thing is, but wouldn't it be a good idea to tell Amar?

"Tobias!" I yell. He turns around and I know I've struck a nerve when I see his fists clench. Tears pool in my eyes making it hard to see, I try to stop them but it just makes it worse. "This is important!"

He turns around and his hands relax. "I don't care…" He speaks to the ground. I wish he would yell, his calm exterior makes me nervous.

Yet this time it only makes me angry. "Why are you acting so weird?!"

"Because, you kissed Uriah!" He shouts. I back up like I've been shot. I didn't want him to find out like this. Then it dawns on me that he can't tell me who I can and can't kiss.

"I—"

The stairs creak and Uriah comes down with headphones on. He doesn't notice us, so Four takes this as his way out and he starts making lunch.

Looks like I'll have to take things into my own hands. I find Amar's cell. I haven't used it since he first contacted me. I press call and hear the rings. Once, twice, three times. You've reached Agent Amar Ha—

I press the end button. "Uriah?" I ask although as soon as the name comes out of my mouth I think of last night. He looks at me from the couch and places his headphones around his neck. "Does Amar usually answer the phone?"

"He has this stupid phone holder on his hip that he wears everyday. It's so stupid."

"And it wouldn't be dead?"

"No, he has a charging phone case. God, he's lame!" He chuckles to himself before putting his headphones back on.

I call again and this time Jeanine answers the phone. "Where's Amar?" I ask.

She hesitates for a second before telling me he slipped out to go to the washroom. That would mean she's with Al and the others. I want to ask how Al is doing, but I have more important things on my mind.

Telling her what I've discovered, she tells me she's on her way over.

I go to the basement, as Uriah goes upstairs and Four stands his ground in the kitchen, I have nowhere to go. I lay on the concrete floor. There's no furniture down here and the bookshelves make this place look like a library.

Lost in my thoughts, I hear the basement door open and three pairs of footsteps walk down the stairs. Uriah, Four and Jeanine come over to the bookshelves and pull out Belle Gunness' file.

I watch as Uriah and Four duck their heads under the gas line while Jeanine walks under it. "If the killer is a girl than we've been looking at this case all wrong," she says.

"I thought we were off the case?" Uriah asks.

"You're back on."

My phone rings and I excuse myself. Christina says my name in a panic.

"What, Christina?" I interrupt he panic.

"Al is awake," a weight I didn't know I had lifted from my shoulders as she spoke and quickly dropped when I heard what she had to say next. "He said he saw a badge, like an FBI badge before he was knocked out. We think the killer is apart of the BAU. Tell Amar."

"Amar isn't here…"

"Jeanine said he went back to the house."

I glance over a Jeanine, who already has her eyes on me. "Oh well he's probably on his way still." I try to act calm. I hang up and go back to Jeanine trying to not be as tense as I feel.

Uriah touches my shoulder. "Are you okay? You look like you've seen a ghost."

I darted my eyes towards Jeanine by instinct. In one quick motion she has her gun out and it slams down hard on Four's head. Four falls to the ground and I back up. Uriah lunges at her but she's too fast and pulls the trigger. A bullet hits his thigh and he collapses.

She keeps the gun pointed on me. "Oh, my beautiful Bea," she starts. My mind is racing. "I knew you would be the one to figure it out. Smart girl."

"What do you want?" I spit.

"You." I stare at her shocked, I was not expecting that answer. "I want you to join me."

"Why me?" I take a step back and she takes a step forward.

"Can't you see the resemblance?" She questions. She's enjoying knowing more than me. "Our blonde hair, our blue eyes."

"I don't understand."

"You look just like her, you know?" She trails. Her grip on the gun loosens. "I remember when she got pregnant with Caleb… I was so excited to be Auntie Jean."

I almost throw up. "My mother didn't have any siblings."

"She wished she didn't." She looks to the ground and I take this chance to check on Uriah and Four. Four lays on the ground still unconscious and Uriah's eyes flutter as blood flows from his leg. "Our dad was cruel, I took pitty on Four for that reason. He would beat us and Nat would defend me." She reminisces. "One day she told me she couldn't take it anymore. That she was pregnant. I asked her to take me with her but she didn't. She left me there with him…"

"Is that why you killed her?" I ask.

"I became apart of the BAU hoping to find her. When I learned she was killed I was furious. I wanted to be the one to do it! I wanted to kill her! I figured you were the next best thing." I gulp. "But then I met you. That's why I want you to join me."

I play along. Anything to get me out of this alive. "We'd never get away with this."

"Oh but we will." She's confident in this. "Four killed Uriah. A troubled son of a killer, everyone would believe it. He was going to kill you when I came back and saved you. Too bad Four doesn't get to live. I was starting to like him."

Will she kill them? Right in front of me? I have to do something.

I think about lunging, but her gun still points at me. She takes a knife out of her pocket and at first I think she's going to stab me, but she flips the blade towards her and the handle towards me. I take it. She walks over to Uriah, gun still strained on me. "Slit his throat." She says almost giddy. "I've been waiting long to see your first kill." She holds Uriah up by his hair. He parts his lips. He's lost a lot of blood.

Please wake up Four. Please.

He's the only one with a gun.

I know that if I look at him she will too so I just have to pray he will wake up.

I bring the blade to Uriah's throat. Please Four. "It's okay to be nervous for your first kill." She comforts. I press the blade harder. I need to think. I can't kill him.

Blood emerges on the knife and I stop. I turn swiftly and swing the knife at Jeanine. He disarms me fast, faster than Gour could have.

As I think for a lie a bullet flings into my shoulder. I cry out in pain. I've seen movies where someone is shot and they just keep going. Of course those are just movies though. I fall to the floor.

Jeanine slams a bookshelf down on Uriah. He winces but he's basically out. The books absorb his blood.

"You bitch!" Jeanine screams. "We're family!"

I spot at her feet. "You and I will never be family."

A gunshot rings through my ears and I wait for the pain to come, but it doesn't. Jeanine screams out as blood drips from her hand. Four groggily sits up and shoots again but misses.

"You made your choice," she shoots Four in the arm, just skimming him, but he still cries out. The next bullet hits the ceiling as she runs up the stairs. The door slams and I hear the lock of the door. A pipe drops from the ceiling and I see where she was aiming. The gas line.

I don't know much about methane but I know that if the room fills with it, we'll suffocate down here.

Four drags himself over to me and places his hand on my face. He takes his shirt off and my breath catches in my throat. He rips it in half and takes my arm. I cry out and bite my lip to not seem weak. "You can cry," Four says. He's oddly calm for someone who's been shot. "It's just me."

I weep as he tightens the fabric around my shoulder to stop the bleeding. He ties the fabric and I see blood leak from his sock. She presses his lips together and crawls over to Uriah. He tries to stand up and I walk over to try to lift the bookshelf off of Uriah. Four cries out when he tries to put pressure on his foot and falls back down. I lift with my one arm, but it's no use. I can't lift this on my own and Four can't stand.

I fall against the wall opposite to where Four leans against the upright bookshelf. "I'm sorry," I say. Tears I try to hold back overflow and drip down my face. "None of this would be happening if it wasn't for me… Uriah's going to die and soon we will too and Jeanine will get away."

"No, she won't." Four says strongly. "Uriah won't die, someone will find us and Jeanine will pay for everything."

He doesn't believe it, but it's reassuring both of us. My eyes shutter and I sink further into the wall. I'm so tired. I feel blood rush down my arm.

"Tris!" Four shouts. I try to look up but I can't get my eyes to open much. Four crawls over and places me against his chest which is bare. I'm so tired yet so awake with my skin against his. "Tris, you gonna stay awake."

"I'm fine, I just…" my thoughts trail off as my eyes shut.

"Please, Tris!" Four pleads. I hear a crack in his voice. "Please stay awake, please stay awake." He repeats to himself.

I look up at him, though I just see his chin at the angle I lay at. I feel like the floor is tossing me around like waves in the ocean. I've never seen the ocean but I've always imagined what it'd be like. Four looks down at me and brushes the hair out of my face. It's really hot in here. "You're really handsome."

"Tris, you're delirious." He says. But I don't hear him because I really want to touch the stubble he has on his chin. It's spiky. "Your body is small so the methane is affecting you more."

"I wish I kissed you instead of Uriah," I blurted. I laugh. "I mean, I wish you kissed me instead of Uriah. You're both really handsome, but you're a jerk."

He scoffs above me and the movement of his chest makes me wince a bit.

My eyes close and I snuggle into Four's chest. He's saying something, but I'm far too tired to respond.

 **Please leave a review, reading them keeps me motivated and I'll try my best to post a bit more often. :)**


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